This Darkness Feels so Cold
by seetherrayne
Summary: The darkness has been taunting Stiles. Stiles fights back the only way he can think of, but it backfires big time. Just a little idea that popped into my head. For now a one-shot, but if enough people want it, I could make it a multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**The Darkness Feels So Cold**

Stiles could feel the darkness closing in on him. He had tried everything to fight it, but tonight it was winning. Whispering in the back of his mind, reminding him of everything he's done wrong. None of this would've happened if it wasn't for him. If he hadn't made Scott go and find the stupid body.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to ignore the guilt, the pain, everything. Then the darkness whispered the one thing that it knew would send him into the abyss.

_She's dead because of you, and now he's gonna die because of you, too._

He thought of his dad, how he had almost died so many times because of his stupidity.

_Maybe next time it won't be almost._

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew he shouldn't, but he picked up his phone and called the one person who could bring him out of this better than anyone.

"Stiles?" Lydia asked when she picked up.

"Hey," he said, attempting a nonchalant tone and failing. "What's up?"

"Not much," she replied. "I'm just hanging out with Aiden."

His gut lurched. Of course she was with Aiden. Why wouldn't she be with Aiden?

"Oh," he uttered, his heart sinking lower. "I'll just…uh…let you go then."

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, though he heard the lie in his voice as soon as he said it, and knew that she did as well. "Sorry to bother you."

He hung up before she could reply.

Desperate to loosen the grip the darkness had on him, he did something he normally wouldn't think of. He went to his dad's liquor cabinet and pulled out a strong bottle of whiskey.

He hesitated. Should he really do this? Would it really help?

_Does it really matter that much?_

As the darkness swirled inside of him, he opened the bottle. He took a drink, savoring the burn. It would atleast help him get some sleep, he reasoned. 

/

Lydia pulled up to Stiles' house. She didn't care that she blew Aiden off. Stiles had sounded really bad on the phone, and she was going to help him.

While she was walking up to the house, she thought about how different he's been acting, and she knew it was because of the sacrifice. She was worried about him. She knew it had been affecting him worse than Scott and Allison.

She knocked on the door and waited for him to answer. He didn't. She knocked again, with the same result. Anxious, she tried the door and it was unlocked. Strange, she thought.

"Stiles?" she called nervously as she walked in. She heard noises coming from the kitchen, and made her way in there.

Stiles was standing in the middle of the kitchen, his phone in one hand, and a bottle of whiskey in the other with his back to her.

Dread surged through her. What was he doing? What had the darkness done to him?

"Stiles?" she called timidly. He did nothing to respond, he just took a swig of whiskey.

"Stiles?" she said again, gently putting her hand on his arm that held the alcohol. He closed his eyes, and then jerked his arm away from her.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice flat and slightly slurred.

"Why not?" she asked. "I'm your friend, and you sounded upset when you called."

"You should be with Aiden," he told her venomously. "I bet he's a lot more fun."

Lydia rolled her eyes in frustration. "I don't care how much 'fun' anyone is, you're upset, and that's what's important. Why are you so upset?"

Stiles turned and looked her straight in the eyes, his foggy from the whiskey that matched his beautiful orbs that were usually so full of light. Now they were flat.

"I killed her," he plainly said.

/

Sheriff John Stillinski was getting ready to go home after a long day of work. He pulled on his jacket, and his phone went off.

He saw a text form Stiles. It was only three words but they made his heart jump in his throat.

**I killed her **

He couldn't believe that his son would kill anyone, but it made him jump into action none the less. He jumped into his car and sped home.

/

"Who did you kill, Stiles?" Lydia asked, getting scared. Stiles would never hurt anyone, but the darkness on the other hand…

"I killed her," he repeated.

"Who?" she asked again.

He shook his head and walked away from her, swaying slightly as he took another drink.

"Stiles, you're scaring me," she said. "Who do you think you killed?"

"I don't think!" he yelled. "I _know_ killed her!"

/

John Stilinski pulled up to the house and saw another car there. It looked familiar. It was that Lydia girl's car, he remembered from last time she came over.

**I killed her**

He jumped out of the car and raced to the house. The door was ajar. He went in and heard Stiles yell from the kitchen, "I _know_ I killed her!"

"Who?" he heard a woman's voice say.

He cautiously walked into the kitchen. Stiles was standing at the far end with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, and Lydia was standing in the middle of the room, looking scared and confused.

"What's going on here?" he asked authoritatively, but with his worry showing through his voice.

Lydia looked at him with wide eyes and shook her head.

Stiles looked at him blankly for a minute, then something like realization flickered across his face.

"It's me," he said slowly. "It's all me."

"Son, what are you talking about?" John asked.

"I saw it in your face, Dad," Stiles said, his eyes tearing up. "Every day you saw her slowly dying in that hospital bed, you thought 'how am I supposed to take care of this stupid kid on my own?'"

John shook his head in disbelief.

Stiles went on, motioning to himself. "This hyperactive little bastard that keeps ruining your life!" The tears were running freely down Stiles' face now, and John had tears himself.

"Stiles," he said. "How could you even- "

"It's me!" Stiles yelled, "It's me, Stupid Stiles." He looked at John straight in the eye and pointed the bottle towards him. "I killed my mother, and now I'm killing you."

Lydia gasped.

John looked at his son in shock and disbelief. Who the hell had told him that?

Before he could say anything, Stiles threw the bottle against the wall to his left and screamed in anger. Then crumpled onto the floor, sobbing.

John ran to his son and grabbed him by the shoulders, tears pouring down his face. "Look at me," he told Stiles.

Stiles slowly looked up to him. He looked like he was on the urge of a panic attack, the sobs were rocking him so hard. John put a hand on his face.

"Look," he said his voice thick with tears. "I don't know where you got that, but _none_ of that is true, okay? You did _not_ kill your mother, and I didn't think that at all. The only thing I thought about was making sure you were okay. That's been my only concern." He paused, taking a deep breath. "But obviously, I'm not doing a very good job, because you aren't okay. I am so, so sorry sweet boy. But you shouldn't feel this way, and if I did _anything_ to make you believe that, I'm sorry. Forgive me. You're not killing me, you're keeping me alive."

He pulled Stiles close, letting his son cry it out on his chest.

He heard the click of heels as Lydia came forward. He had forgotten she was there.

"What happened?" he whispered to her.

She shook her head and sniffled. She was crying too. "I don't know. I came over just a few minutes before you came home, and he was already like this. I think it's the darkness."

"The darkness?" he asked as he stroked Stiles' hair. "What darkness?"

She sighed and explained what happened when Stiles sacrificed himself for his dad. How a darkness came over him, and she worried that it was affecting him more than Scott and Allison, and how this was proof.

By the time she had finished explaining, Stiles' sobs had subsided, thought there were still tears coming down his face. John brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead and Lydia put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"I'm so tired, Dad," he finally muttered. John nodded.

Stiles pulled out of the embrace somewhat reluctantly and they all made their way upstairs.

Sheriff tucked Stiles into bed like he did when Stiles was little, and he started drifting off to sleep.

"I'm gonna go," Lydia said awkwardly.

"No," Stiles interjected, half asleep. "Please stay."

She looked at John and he just shrugged.

She went to stand by the bed and took off her shoes. She laid down and took Stiles hand, and he pulled it to his chest and went to sleep.

John smiled a little. That girl had no idea just how much his son loved her. But his son also didn't know how much that girl loved him. He didn't even think she knew.

He said goodnight and left the room, trusting that nothing was happening other than sleep. His son was okay. Atleast for tonight. And he was going to make sure it stayed that way. That's what he promised Claudia, and he was gonna keep that promise, no matter how hard it was.


	2. Chapter 2

**So I decided to continue! I know there were some people who liked it and wanted me to continue, so here you go! Thank you to my reviewers and people who followed and favorited!**

**This chapter's a little bit lighter, with definite Stydia, so... enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters.**

Lydia awoke to a creaking sound. She popped her head up in surprise. It took her a minute to remember where she was. Blushing, she saw that her and Stiles had changed positions while they slept. He was lying on his back, his mouth slightly open, and his arm was around her as she curled up into his side, her head resting on his chest.

She heard the creaking again, and looked bleary-eyed around the now sun-filled room. As she looked towards the door, she saw that Sheriff Stilinski was peeking his head in the doorway.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, it's fine," she whispered back, flushing furiously as she gently moved out of Stiles' embrace and got out of bed. She went to grab her shoes. "I should probably go anyway."

"Alright," he said. "If you want to."

She paused as she mulled over that. "It's not that I want to," she said slowly.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," he told her. "You're welcome as long as you like."

She looked at his sincere face. "Are you sure?" she asked. She really did want to stay.

"Of course," he said. "I was just about to make breakfast. If you wanna freshen up, the bathroom's next door."

She smiled. "Okay." She made for the bathroom, while the Sheriff went farther into Stiles' room.

"Oh!" she said. "Don't wake Stiles up yet. He needs the rest."

The Sheriff nodded and held up a glass of water and a couple of Advil. "I was just gonna put this over there. He's gonna need it when he wakes up."

She laughed quietly. "Yeah. Hangovers are a bitch."

The Sheriff smiled. "That they are."

Lydia went to the bathroom and shuddered when she looked in the mirror. Her foundation was smeared from sleeping, and her mascara was down her cheeks from crying last night. Not to mention she felt sweaty and gross. She really should go home and take a shower, but she wasn't going to leave Stiles until she was sure that he was okay.

She sighed and went to work at washing her face, wondering when Stiles had become so important in her life.

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John sighed as he looked at his sleeping son. Even now that he knew about this darkness, he still had a lot of questions.

He moved his way over to his son's drawers and pulled out a pair of basketball shorts and a gray t-shirt, then made his way to the bathroom door and knocked.

Lydia opened the door, her face damp and clean from any make-up.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Am I taking too long?"

"No," he replied. "I just wanted to give you these." He held up the stack. "You know, in case you wanted a shower."

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you so much."

"No problem," he said. "That way we can wash your dress so it's clean when you do decide you want to go home."

She nodded and took the clothes. "Okay. Thank you, really."

"You're welcome," he said, and smiled back. He went downstairs after she closed the door and started making breakfast, thankful that he had gone grocery shopping recently.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''

Lydia combed her hair after the shower, hoping Stiles wouldn't have an issue with her DNA on his comb. Looking at herself in the mirror, she surprisingly liked how she looked. Though the basketball shorts went three inches below her knees and the shirt was baggy, she didn't mind. She hugged herself in the shirt, loving how soft it was, and how _amazing_ it smelled. It smelled like _Stiles. _Like warmth, and safety, and love, and the perfect soft, honey-eyed boy who showed nothing but love and selflessness. The boy that cared for her so deeply when no one else did. The boy that she absolutely –

Oh my God. Why was she thinking like this? It was _Stiles._

Shaking off those thoughts, she opened the door and was assaulted by the aroma of bacon frying. She made her way to the kitchen and smiled when she saw that Sheriff Stilinski had gone all out. But she felt a little guilty.

"Did you do this because of me?" She asked, unsure.

"Um," he said, setting the plate of bacon on the table. "Kind of, yeah."

She blushed. "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged. "Not a problem. Sit."

"No, really," she said, sitting down. "This is amazing."

She really was touched that he would go to all of this trouble for a silly girl who barged into his home the night before.

"And it's really no problem," he replied. "It's the least I can do after you helped last night."

He brow furrowed in confusion. "I didn't help that much at all."

He smiled and shook his head. "You really don't know the effect you have on Stiles, do you?"

She looked him in the eyes and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she finally asked. "That he's had a crush on me forever, so I could probably get him to do anything I wanted?"

"Lydia," he said seriously. That was the first time he had used her name. "I honestly believe that if you didn't stay with him last night like he asked, he could've gotten worse, not better."

"Well," she mused, trying not to think about what the Sheriff was saying, "I was his connection with the whole sacrifice situation, so I guess it makes sense that I would have that effect."

He shook his head. "It's more than that."

"What do you mean?" she asked. She had an idea what he meant, but she was afraid of that idea.

"You'll find out soon enough," he answered simply.

Bewildered, she just looked at him as he went to the doorway. What did that mean?

"Stiles!" he called up. "Time for breakfast!"

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"Time for breakfast!"

Stiles jumped up in bed immediately regretting his decision. His head pounded like someone was jack-hammering his skull apart.

He groaned in pain slowly fell back onto the bed.

"Hurry up or I'm gonna eat all your bacon!"

Well, Stiles couldn't have that. His dad ate unhealthy enough as it was.

He sat up and saw water and Advil by the bed, then noticed a pair of tan heels in front of the night stand.

What were a pair of girl's shoes doing in here? Then everything that had happened last night flooded back to him. At first he groaned again, but then he realized that Lydia had stayed all night. Lydia and him had slept in the same bed.

Oh. My. God.

Slightly giddy, he took the Advil and made his way down to the kitchen.

When he got there, he saw his dad at the table, and a strawberry blonde pouring coffee at the counter. He did a double-take. Nope, he wasn't seeing things. Lydia Martin was wearing baggy men's clothes, and more importantly, she was wearing _his _baggy men's clothes.

Her hair was curling as it dried, cascading down her back. She turned around and smiled at him, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. She didn't look anything like she usually did, but it didn't make her any less breathtaking.

His head pounded again, and he grabbed his forehead as he made his way to the table.

"How're you feeling?" Lydia asked, sitting down herself.

"Other than having a clogging concert in my head, just great!" he said, then he got serious. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I don't know what came over me -"

"Yeah you do," his dad said. "Lydia told me."

Stiles looked at Lydia, and she looked down. He sighed. "I'm still sorry. For all of it, both of you."

"I just wanna know why you went there," Lydia asked. "Why you decided to get drunk."

Stiles shrugged, picking at his eggs. His head was still pounding, but not nearly as bad as it was before. "I don't know. It was putting all these thoughts in my head, and I just wanted to shut it up. Obviously it didn't work."

He heard his dad sigh. "So you drank because you thought it would help you escape."

Stiles looked up and immediately knew what his dad was thinking. How he had done the same thing after Stiles' mom died.

"No it wasn't like that, Dad," he tried to explain. "Not at all, I was just trying – "

"To escape, to shut it up, to drown out the bad thoughts. Believe me Stiles, I know." He put his head in hand, and guilt overcame Stiles.

"I'm sorry, Dad,' he said thickly as tears threatened to escape his eyes. He had disappointed his dad. That was the worst thing he could ever do in his own eyes.

"It's not your fault," his dad said. "It's what you learned to do."

Stiles looked at Lydia as she discreetly tried to leave the table, obviously sensing that something private was being discussed. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder before she left the room, and it did actually help a little.

Stiles," he said. "I know when times have gotten tough in the past, I wasn't the best role-model on how to handle it."

"Dad," Stiles said. "Don't –"

"Let me finish," his dad said. "I haven't been the best role-model, but you need to learn from my mistakes. Please don't make them yourself.

"I'm not," Stiles interjected. "It was one time, and it's not happening again. I did learn." His dad looked at him. "I learned that it's not the way to go. I saw how hard you fought, and still fight everyday to get over it, to stay on top of it. I saw how strong you were, and are, and I knew I could never be that strong, so that made me never want to do it. Because I knew I couldn't come out on top like you did."

His dad just shook his head and smiled. "You honestly believe you're not strong enough? The only reason I got better is because I saw how strong _you_ were. You were my rock, Stiles, you always have been and always will. You've become everybody's rock in this whole mess. You have spent way too long shouldering everyone's pain and struggles and ignoring your own. One meltdown is not going to hurt anything."

"That actually…helps. A lot," Stiles said. "Although, technically, I had two meltdowns."

His dad's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I…uh…kinda had a panic attack when you were taken," he looked back down at his food.

"Again," his dad said. "Nothing wrong with that. Was Scott there to help you?"

Stiles shook his head, blushing as he thought about it. "No, I uh, I was with, um, Lydia."

"She helped you through it okay?"

"It was ,uh," Stiles cleared his throat, "unorthodox, but it, you know, worked."

His dad's eyebrows went up at Stiles' tone. "What do you mean 'unorthodox?'"

"She, uh, you know, um, she…kissed me."

"Really?" his dad's eyebrows went even higher in surprise.

Stiles smiled at the memory of her lips on his. "Yeah."

"But you two aren't –"

"No. We haven't really…talked about it." Stiles said awkwardly.

His dad nodded. "You should. I think you might like how the conversation goes."

"Wh-what?" he was confused. Why would he like it, exactly? "What do you know that I don't?"

"Ask her," he said, taking a sip of coffee.

Before Stiles could say anything else, Lydia peered back in.

"Come on in, Lydia," his dad said. We're done."

"Um," she started. "I was just wondering where the laundry room is so I can start my dress?"

Stiles' dad looked at him.

"Yeah," Stiles said. "I'll show you."

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Lydia watched Stiles as he set the wash according to her dress's instruction, since she had no idea how to work this washer. It was actually very attractive watching him be all domestic. She could see herself wrapping her arms around him from behind as he put the soap in and kiss his neck while running her hands under his shirt –

What? Come on, this is _Stiles. _But maybe that's exactly why she thought this. Things had changed between them, a _lot_. She had slowly been feeling more attracted to him the more she got to know him, but after she kissed him, all kinds of feelings bubbled up from deep down inside her. Feelings she didn't want to have. Feelings that could only hurt her.

But maybe Stiles was worth the risk, she found herself thinking.

Stiles closed the lid and spun around, and she blushed, looking away. It's not like he could read her mind, but he was the only one who could see through her mask, and she didn't want him to see what she was thinking.

"You know," he said, leaning back on the washer with an innocent sensuality. "You look cute in that."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Yeah right."

"No," he said sincerely, standing up straight and walking towards her. "I mean it. No makeup, hair not done, wearing-" he swallowed, "my – I mean, uh, guy's clothes, and you're still stunning."

Lydia blushed more. God, what was it with Stilinskis and making her blush? The way he looked at her, she knew he was telling the truth. He honestly thought she looked beautiful like this. He gently grabbed a curl of her hair and pushed it behind her ear. Where had this sudden confidence come from?

They stared at each other for a few minutes. The longer they stared, the more she wanted him to kiss her. But he just stared into her eyes, his own sparkling like they always do when he's looking at her, in wonder and amazement, and had a soft and gentle hand cupping her face. Finally, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, hoping he's get the hint. Usually she liked to take charge, but she wanted him to initiate the kiss. Because with him, she didn't feel like she had to be in control. She knew she would be safe.

Suddenly, his forehead was on hers, their lips inches apart. She was about to close the distance when the doorbell rang, causing both of them to jump away from each other.

Stiles rushed out of the room, obviously embarrassed. After a deep breath, Lydia followed.

"Hey," she heard Scott say from the front door. "Ready to study?

"Y-yeah," Stiles said.

"Did you get Lydia to tutor?" Scott asked, his voice getting close the kitchen where Lydia had moved. Sheriff Stilinski had gone to the study after cleaning up, so she was alone as she leaned against the counter, waiting for them to get in there.

"What?" Stiles replied, confused.

"Her car's out front," Scott said slowly, confused himself.

"Oh, uh yeah, about that –"

Scott walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Lydia.

At first she was confused by the look on his face, but then she remembered what she was wearing, and what it obviously looked like.

Scott gave a knowing smile. "So, not studying." Then another thought hit him and he put his hand on Stiles' arm. "Dude, where's your dad?"

"In the study, why –" Stiles' mouth stalled as the realized what it looked like and his lips formed a perfect "O" of shock. "Oh God, it's uh – not, um, what it looks like a-at all."

"Oh, Stiles," Lydia interrupted, feeling devious, a wicked smile on her face. "We spent the night together, no shame in that."

Scott's eyebrows went up more than she thought was physically possible.

What? She wasn't lying.

**Ta-da! Tell me what you think! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Here you guys go! I hope you guys like this chapter, because I'm actually pretty proud of it. We get to see why the darkness is affecting Stiles like it is. Well, my headcanon for it anyways.**

**Enjoy!**

**I don't own Teen Wolf**

* * *

"Oh, Stiles," Lydia interrupted. "We spent the night together, no shame in that."

Stiles felt his eyes widen and his breath catch as Scott's eyebrows went up and his face broke out into an absolutely ridiculous, knowing grin.

He looked at Lydia with his mouth moving a thousand miles a minute, but nothing coming out. She just shrugged, smiling her little smile. What the hell was she doing?

"Yeah," Scott said teasingly. "No shame."

Stiles was flushing furiously at this point. "It's – it's not like that. A-at all."

"So you guys didn't spend the night together?" Scott asked.

"Oh yeah," Lydia said. "We did."

Scott grinned again. "Well Stiles," he teased, "Guess you don't have to worry about being a human sacrifice anymore."

"What?" Lydia asked, tilting her head.

"Oh my God, shut up," Stiles begged, sinking down in a chair and running his hands through his hair. Lydia didn't know he was a virgin. He didn't want her to find out.

"When the first group of people were getting sacrificed, he was worried he would be next," Scott explained the inside joke. Son of a Bitch.

Lydia's eyes widened in realization. "Oh…Stiles, you're a –"

"Yes!" Stiles half-yelled. "Can we stop talking about it?"

Stiles leaned forward and put his head in his hand. God, could this get any worse?

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have joked like that."

"No," he said, sitting back up. "It's fine. Let's just stop talking about it."

He looked up and saw Scott baffled by the conversation he was witnessing. "So you didn't…?"

"We did spend the night together," Stiles explained. "But nothing happened."

"Oh," Scott said, sitting down at the table. "Then why did you spend the night?" He was looking at Lydia.

"Um," she hesitated, biting her lip. She looked at Stiles, wondering if it was okay to say anything. He nodded. Before the heart-to-heart with his dad, he probably wouldn't have told Scott, or any one for that matter. But now he realized that it was okay, and he knew Scott wouldn't judge him for it anyway. He might even understand.

"Stiles kind of had a bad time last night," she finally said.

Scott looked at Stiles questioningly.

"Have you been, uh, having trouble with the darkness?" Stiles asked him.

"Yeah," Scott answered. "Of course."

"What do you do to…combat it?"

Scott shrugged. "I think of everyone I care about and everyone who cares about me and it gets better."

Stiles sighed. So he wouldn't understand. "And that works every time?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded.

Stiles licked his lips slowly, wondering why that was. "You've never had it so powerful that you couldn't beat it by thinking because it wouldn't let you think?"

Scott shook his head slowly. "Have you been having that much trouble with it?"

Stiles nodded. "Not all the time, but sometimes, yeah. Last night it got so bad I just wanted to drown it out, so I tried with some of my dad's Jack, but it kind of…backfired."

"Backfired?" Scott asked.

"As in total breakdown backfired," Stiles elaborated.

Scott blew out a deep breath. "Why didn't you call me?"

Stiles shrugged. "The only person I could think of was Lydia, and then I thought she was too busy for me when I called her, so I drank."

"Why are you here if he thought you were too busy?" Scott asked Lydia.

"I came anyways," she said. "He sounded upset on the phone, so I came over as fast as I could. He was already drunk by the time I got here. I stayed the night to make sure he was okay."

Scott nodded in understanding. "Are you okay now?" he asked Stiles.

"Yeah," Stiles replied. "I feel fine except for the remnants of a hangover."

Scott nodded, thinking. "Does anyone know if Allison's having these issues?"

Lydia shrugged her shoulders. "She hasn't said anything to me."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, all thinking about what had been discussed.

Was Stiles the only one feeling like this? What did that mean if it was? Was something different about the darkness that claimed Stiles, of was he just that much weaker than Scott and Allison?

_Of course you're weaker than them, just look at you.  
You can't do what they can physically,  
imagine how much weaker you are mentally?_

Stiles shook his head, trying to shake out the voice.

_You're weak, you're nothing.  
They're all just wasting their time caring.  
How can someone care about nothing?_

"Stiles?" He felt a small gentle hand on his shoulder, and he snapped out of it.

Lydia was standing next to him now, and both her and Scott were looking at him with worried expressions.

"What?" he asked.

"You okay?" Scott inquired, looking at him with concern.

Stiles nodded slowly. "Yeah, just spaced for a minute, I guess."

Lydia's hand tightened around his shoulder, and he looked up at her. He could tell by her face that she didn't believe him, and when he looked back at Scott, it was the same thing. Neither of them pushed it, though.

"I think we should talk to Deaton about this," Scott suggested. "See what he knows."

Stiles nodded. "Okay. We should probably get Allison, too. See if it's just me of not."

As Scott nodded and pulled out his phone to text Allison, Stiles' dad came in. he took in the scene in the kitchen, smiling slightly as his eyes landed on Lydia's hand on Stiles' shoulder.

"I have to go into the station for a little while," he announced.

"Okay," Stiles replied.

His dad went over to him and Lydia stepped back as he hugged Stiles.

"I love you," his dad told him in his ear. "No matter what. Don't you ever forget that."

Stiles nodded. "I know. I love you, too."

His dad squeezed him tightly before letting go. "I'll see you later."

"'Kay, Dad," Stiles said. Lydia came and stood next to him again as his dad left.

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Lydia stood by Stiles again as Sheriff Stilinski left. She put her hand back on his shoulder, not wanting to leave him without a physical connection if she could help it. She had seen his face when he had "spaced", and knew the darkness was creeping back in. If her presence helped like his dad had thought, she wasn't taking any chances.

Scott's phone buzzed. "She said she could meet us whenever," he said as he read the text.

"Let me know how it goes," Lydia said, think that she would just intrude if she was there.

Stiles looked up at her with confusion in his beautiful honey-eyes and grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder. "You don't want to come?"

"It's not that," she said. "I would probably just get in the way."

Stiles shook his head. "No you wouldn't. I…I want you there."

He said it casually, but Lydia's heart tightened at the pleading in his eyes.

"I'm gonna go call Deaton," Scott said awkwardly before leaving the room.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Wouldn't I just be intruding?"

Stiles shook his head again, taking her hand off of his shoulder, and grasped it in both of his. They were so warm and soft, she thought as she sat down in the seat next to him.

"You wouldn't be intruding," he assured, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles absentmindedly, not knowing it was sending chills through her body.

"You're part of this," he continued. "And I want you there. For moral support, if nothing else."

She smiled a little. As she looked into his eyes, she knew she couldn't say no. "Okay."

He smiled. "Thanks. We can wait until your dress is done if you want."

"No, that's okay," she said, realizing it was the truth as it was coming out of her mouth. "I don't mind going like this."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "This is more important than what I'm wearing."

She stood up, and he followed. Without even thinking, she wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back. Stroking her hair and leaning his head down to bury it in her neck.

She breathed in his scent and felt completely safe and…happy.

When they finally pulled out of the hug, Stiles just looked at her, his arms still around her.

"What was that for?" he asked, smiling.

She shrugged with a small smile of her own. "Just because."

"Okay," Scott said as he came back in, then stopped as they pulled apart. "Am I interrupting something?" he had a sly smile on his face.

"Nope," Lydia said as she took Stile's hand. Scott noticed. "Tell Allison to bring flip-flops. I'm not wearing my heels."

"Why can't you text her?" he asked.

"Because my phone is in my car, and yours is in your hand," she explained like she was telling him the sky was blue. Scott shrugged and texted Allison.

They took Stiles' Jeep, with Scott in the front and Lydia taking the back. They didn't talk much, and Lydia alternated between looking at Stiles and down at her bare feet.

When they got there, Allison was standing against her car waiting for them, flip-flops in hand. They were wedge heels with black glittery straps. She knew Lydia so well. They got out and Lydia grabbed the shoes as Stiles and Scott headed for the entrance.

"Thanks," Lydia said as she slid them on. "All I had were my heels, and they would've looked _so_ weird with – what?"

Allison was looking at her with a raised eyebrow, eyes sparkling with question. "Are you wearing…_Stiles'_ clothes?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, grow up. I've been through this with Scott already. I spent the night, and my dress is in the washer."

"You spent the night?" Allison asked with a little squeal. "I knew you liked him!"

Lydia smacked her best friend's arm. "Nothing happened! I just spent the night!"

"Still," Allison said as they started walking to the door. "You spent the night with a guy. You never do that. Even if nothing happened, that's something. In fact, it makes it even better."

Lydia shrugged, not liking the butterflies that had taken residence in her stomach. "He asked me to stay with him, so I did."

"Okay," Alison said. "Whatever you say." But Lydia knew that this conversation wasn't over.

They made it to the examination room, and nerves cause Lydia's heartbeat to quicken. The last time they had been here, she had to drown Stiles. She stood next to Stiles and took his hand, knowing he was probably nervous, too. He looked at her and smiled, threading his long, slender fingers through her. She looked away and caught Allison looking at them, raising a suggestive eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes.

They explained what happened the night before, Deaton thinking as he listened.

"So what's wrong with me?" Stiles asked when he was finished.

Deaton was silent for a minute mulling over the information.

"I don't think that it's a different type of darkness," he finally said. "It's just affecting you differently." He turned to Allison. "This hasn't happened to you?"

Allison shook her head. "'I've had a few…_weird_ dreams, but nothing like this." She was blushing slightly. Lydia reminded herself to ask about that later.

Deaton nodded. "What kind of dreams?" Yay, she didn't have to ask.

"Well," Allison started, her blush deepening. "Just about…my Aunt Kate." Lydia could tell there was more to it than that, and filed it away for later.

"Alright," Deaton said. "So it's affecting all of you differently, Stiles just happens to be getting the worst of it."

Lydia tightened her grip on his hand as he looked down at the table.

"I was afraid this might happen," Deaton said quietly.

Anger shot through Lydia. "Wait, you knew that this would've happened?"

Deaton nodded. "There's a certain…personality that the darkness will latch tighter to. Stiles fits that personality."

"You mean the weakest," Stiles interjected.

"Not at all," Deaton said. "These people are very strong, maybe not the strongest physically, but emotionally they've been through a lot, and they are resilient. But despite all they've been through, they still feel strongly, whatever emotion it is. Excitement, happiness, anger, love, sadness, guilt, the list goes on. They feel stronger than the average person. Not only their emotions, but they take their loved one's emotions upon themselves and carry it as heavily as they would their own. They usually end up being the rock in the relationships they have, without wanting their own rock and usually hiding their pain to protect those they love. The darkness latches onto that, and tries to tear it down, intensifying the bad emotions and trying to make the good ones non-existent."

"So he's just going to have to deal with this for the rest of his life?" Scott asked in disbelief.

Deaton sighed. "I don't know. I wouldn't recommend it."

Lydia felt Stiles' arm start to shake, and he let go of her hand and leaned forward onto his hands.

"Is there anything I could do?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly as well. Lydia looped her arm through his, pushing herself right up against him. He closed his eyes and sighed, putting a hand on hers.

"I'll look," Deaton replied. "There has to be something that can atleast lessen the hold is has on you."

Stiles nodded and took a deep breath. "Thanks."

Deaton put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "It will most likely be extremely dangerous." Lydia tightened her hold on Stiles.

He looked around at each of them, then back at Deaton. "I don't care, I just don't want to feel like this anymore."

Deaton nodded. "Alright, I'll see what I can find."

Lydia looked at Stiles and her heart hurt for him. Here was the boy who was always there for everybody, the boy who loved so much, the boy who cared about everybody more than he cared about himself. This selfless, loving, beautiful boy was the best person she had ever met.

And now he was being punished for it.

It was then that she decided. She wasn't letting him out of her sight, not as long as she could help it. She would keep the darkness away from him as much as she could because she wanted to protect this boy – no, she thought as she looked at him, - this _man_ that had protected everyone else, including her. Not because she felt like she owed him, but because she honestly wanted to protect him. Because she cared for him. A lot more than she'd ever cared for anyone. She cared so much it hurt, and though she was afraid of what she was feeling, she wasn't gonna let that fear get in the way. She wasn't going to let anything get in the way. Because they were connected, even Deaton thought so. She was his tether to the world of the living. And if anyone wanted to hurt him, even a mass of darkness inside of him, it was gonna have to go through her.

And Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off Banshee.

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**Whataya think? Let me know!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm early! Thank you guys so much for your reviews and follows and favorites, it means so much! **

**So naturally more Stydia, and even some Scott/Lydia friendship. Hope you enjoy!**

**I don't own Teen Wolf.**

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As they were leaving Deaton's, there was a nervous energy all around, but Lydia was sure about one thing. She was sticking with Stiles.

They got back in the Jeep, and Lydia leaned forward between the seats. "Hey, can we stop by my house? I need a couple of things."

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, "sure."

They went to her house, but when they got there, dread coursed through her body. Aiden's motorcycle was in the driveway, and Aiden himself was sitting on the porch.

"Crap," she groaned, laying her head back on the seat. She did _not_ want to deal with this now.

"What?" Scott asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing, I just wasn't expecting him to be here."

She got out of the car as Aiden made his way to her.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked. "I've been calling and texting for hours. And what are you wearing?"

Lydia rolled her eyes and walked past him to the door. She heard the Jeep doors slam as Stiles and Scott got out. "Do we have to talk about this now?"

"Yeah," Aiden replied. "We do. You said you had something to take care of, then you go AWOL for hours? And when you do show up, you're wearing guy's clothes?" He sniffed. "And smell like Stiles?"

Lydia turned around and looked at him as she went to the potted plant for the spare key. "Really Aiden, not now."

Realization came over his face, then anger as his eyes flashed red. "What exactly did you do with Stiles last night?"

"I spent the night," she said with a frustrated sigh, not thinking as she grabbed the key and slid into the lock. Then she realized what she said, and how he would take it. But it was too late.

She spun around just in time to see Aiden lunge for Stiles, fangs and claws bared.

"No!" she screamed. She ran for Stiles, but Scott had already wolfed-out himself, and tackled Aiden to the ground. She stood by Stiles as she watched them fight.

Aiden clawed Scott in the side, and Scott roared in pain. He lunged for Scott again, but was taken by surprise as Scott grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the ground, taking hold of his neck. Aiden kicked Scott in the stomach, sending him flying into the flower-bed. Scott was back up by the time Aiden was. They glared at each other, fangs bared, but before they could do anything else, Lydia put herself between them.

"Stop!" She yelled. "Let me explain!"

"Explain what?" Aiden said around his fangs. "That you cheated on me like a cheap slut?"

Lydia reared up. "Excuse me?"

"Don't you dare call her that, you son of a bitch!" Stiles yelled, charging for Aiden.

"No!" Lydia said. "I can handle this."

Stiles stopped. "But-"

"Let. Me. Handle this," she demanded.

He stood back, but was still pissed off. She turned back to Aiden.

"You don't have to 'handle it,'" Aiden said. "I will."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lydia asked.

"It means," Aiden said, human again, "that I am done with this. I am done with being your distraction."

Lydia raised her eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Since a while ago," he yelled. "I don't mind having a physical relationship, but I am _not_ going to be your distraction from your feelings for somebody else."

"What are you talking about?" Lydia said, her stomach clenching.

Aiden rolled his eyes. "Don't even start. I see the way you look at him."

Lydia scoffed, not liking where this conversation was going. "Who?"

"You know who!" he replied, stealing a glance at Stiles. Stiles shook his head in surprise. "Do you care about him like that? And don't lie to me, I can hear your heartbeat."

Lydia just stood there, not wanting to answer the question, she didn't want to admit it to herself, much less anyone else.

Aiden nodded. "That's what I thought."

He walked to this bike and got on.

"We're done, Lydia," he said, then drove off.

She was hurt, but even so, she felt this odd freeing feeling. Like something had been suffocating her, and now she could breathe again.

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"Are you okay?" Stiles asked both of them as he ran over to Lydia.

"I'm fine, she replied off-handedly, then turned to Scott. "How about you?" Did he hurt you too bad?"

"Nah," Scott said, wincing a little as he walked to them. "It's already healing."

"Thanks man," Stiles said. "I would've probably been dead if you weren't here," He had honestly been terrified of Aiden when he had lunged at him.

"Don't say that," Lydia said as she went back to the door. She unlocked the door. "You coming?"

They went inside, and Lydia started upstairs.

"You guys make yourselves at home," she invited. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

The boys went into the sitting room and sat waiting for her.

"So," Scott said after a minute of silence. "What exactly's going on with you and Lydia?"

Stiles shrugged with a sigh. "I honestly have no clue."

"You might wanna figure it out," Scott suggested. "Something's going on."

"Yeah," Stiles said. "No crap."

What was going on between them? He couldn't think of any word that could explain what they were to each other. He had always had feelings for her, but since junior year started, it had turned into more than just a crush. Something deeper. He thought it might have been friendship, but it felt too strong…and with what Aiden had said, he was even more confused.

Before he could go further into his thought process, Lydia came into the room with a large duffel on her shoulder.

"What's that for?" Scott asked

"Sheriff Stilinski said that I could stay as long as I wanted, and my mom is out of town until next week. I want to be as near as I can, and that's Stiles' house. So, I'll be staying there."

"Really?" Stiles asked, surprised.

"Yes," she replied, tilting her head. "Is that alright with you?"

"Y-yeah, of course," he said.

Oh my God. Lydia was staying at his house. For a week.

"Well," Lydia interrupted his thoughts. "Are we going?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, let's go!"

On the way home, Stiles' nerves were making him fidgety. Why did Lydia want to stay at his house all of a sudden? Yeah, she spent last night at his house, but that was a special circumstance. Was she really so comfortable with him that she was willing to stay with him for that long? He didn't mind her staying if that's what she wanted, he was just surprised.

He looked in the rear-view mirror and caught Lydia looking at him. She looked away blushing, and he smiled a little. Since when could he make Lydia Martin blush with just a look?

"Stiles," Scott said, looking at the guy's hands tapping against the steering wheel. "Deaton's gonna find something okay? You don't have to worry."

Great. Just the thing he was trying not to think about.

"I know," Stiles said dejectedly. "I just want this to be over."

They pulled into Stiles' driveway and got out of the car.

"Do you wanna just study later?" Scott asked.

Stiles thought for a second. "Would any of us really be able to concentrate?"

They looked at each other for a minute, all knowing the answer.

"Alright," Scott said. "I'll be by later. I'm gonna go fill Isaac in."

Stiles nodded, walked towards Lydia, and grabbed her bag from her.

She looked at him in confusion. "I can get my own bag."

Stiles shrugged. "I don't mind."

She looked at him curiously. "Thank you." She smiled and Stiles' stomach did a little backflip, because that wasn't her normal smile. That smile was a smile a schoolgirl would give her crush. And she was smiling like that at him. He hadn't seen that smile on her since Junior High and it was directed at Jackson, and now she was looking at him with that same smile. Wow, he just thought the word smile a lot.

Nervous, he looked away and saw Scott standing by his motorcycle, grinning like a maniac at the scene in front of him. He had seen the smile, too.

"I'm gonna grab my phone," Lydia said. "I'll meet you inside."

"Okay," Stiles nodded and headed into the house, his head spinning and heart racing from the smile. A freaking smile!

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Lydia grabbed her phone from the cup-holder, and when she turned around, Scott was standing right there.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"What's going on with you and Stiles?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Nothing," she blew it off, not wanting to think about it. She went to push past him, but he cut her off.

"Something's going on," he said. "What is it?"

Lydia bit her lip, looking down. Why couldn't he just let it be?

"I don't know," she admitted. "Something's…changed between us, and I'm not sure what it is." Okay, that part was a lie. She knew, she just wasn't admitting it.

"Well, why are you staying with him?" he asked, trying to help her figure it out. But she didn't want to figure it out. She already knew.

"I told you why at my house," she explained.

Scott looked pointedly at her. "You didn't tell me all of it."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, I did."

"I can hear your heartbeat," he said. "You're lying." Damn werewolves.

"Why do you care so much?" she asked, annoyed.

"Because he's my friend," he replied, "and so are you. And I know that you don't open up about things, especially things that scare you. Whatever you're felling for Stiles is scaring you."

She looked at him and sighed, breaking down a little. "I wanna be there for him, okay? I want to protect him. After seeing what the darkness can do to him, I'm not leaving him alone. Sheriff Stilinski thinks I have a positive effect on him, and if that's true, I'm not taking chances. I'm gonna be there for him. I _want _to be there for him."

Scott nodded, trying not to smile. "You really care for him, don't you?"

"So much it scares me." There, she finally said it. But she knew he would understand why she was so scared. He had been through the same thing she had with parents and divorce.

"I get it," he said.

"Then why weren't you scared with Allison?" she asked. She honestly wanted to know.

"I was," Scott answered. "But I also liked her a lot, and I had to decide which was stronger, my fear or my feelings for her. Even though it didn't work out between us, I don't regret it, because I have a good friendship with her now."

"But what if that's not how it ends with Stiles and me?"

"You have to be willing to take that chance," he said. "But I don't think you have to worry about that. If Allison and I can still be friends, so can you and Stiles."

Lydia nodded slowly. "Okay. Thanks for the advice. It helps.'

"No problem," he said as he walked away and got on his bike. "I'll be back later, okay?"

"'Kay," She headed into the house, and found Stiles in the kitchen, grabbing stuff to make sandwiches.

"Hey," he said as he set the stuff on the counter. "I didn't know if you were hungry of not, but it's lunchtime, so I thought…"

"No, it's fine," she said. She didn't realize she was hungry until she saw the food.

"What do you like on your sandwich?" he asked.

"I can make my own sandwich," she said, rolling her eyes.

"No problem," he replied. He grabbed two pieces of bread and put them on a plate. "Mayo or mustard?"

"Mustard," she said with a sigh. She knew better than to argue with him.

She watched as he built her sandwich, amused.

"You know," she said when he was almost done. "According to society, I should be making you a sandwich."

"Well," he replied. "Society's a douche."

She laughed. "Very true."

He handed her the sandwich and started on his own.

She loved seeing him like this. Just casual, hanging out, being a gentleman. She wished that it could always be like this. No drama, no super-natural crap, just his. Just being together. She looked at him and could see herself living like this forever, with him. Waking up every day to Stiles and his beautiful eyes. Going through the day and them coming home to him and talking about their day, then crawling into bed and snuggling up to him, possibly more… Which reminded her.

"Stiles," she asked as they sat down at the table.

"Huh?" he said.

"Why are you a virgin?"

He ducked his head, obviously embarrassed. Crap.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately. "It's none of my business."

"No," he said. "It's okay. It just…hasn't happened yet."

Lydia nodded. "I think it's pretty cool, actually."

"Really?" he asked, looking back up at her in surprise.

"Yeah," she replied. "Sometimes I wish I was still a virgin. I mean, Aiden was right, I am kind of a slut, and there are times where I wish I could atleast tone down my experience."

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Because when you do it with one guy, the next one you're with expects it, and the next one, it just goes on. And you start to expect it, too."

"I wouldn't expect it," he said. "You shouldn't do anything you're not comfortable with."

"It's not that I'm uncomfortable, it's just that sometimes it gets to the point to where you wonder if he really loves you or if he's just there for the sex." She had never said that to anyone before, but she had felt it for a long time.

"Lydia," he said earnestly, looking her straight in the eyes. "If a guy's with you just for the sex, then there is something seriously wrong with him. You're a genius, you have an amazing heart, and you're beautiful inside and out without even trying. Any guy who can't see that isn't worth it."

Her heart swelled at his words, because he honestly believed them. No one had ever said anything like that to her, all they said was how hot she was, or things of that nature. Stiles saw past that, and saw _her,_ and loved every bit of her, even the flaws. She realized that she felt the same way about him.

At that moment, she knew which was stronger.

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**Soooo, what'd you think?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here you go guys! I really, really appreciate every review, and all my followers! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, there's some definite Stydia fluff!**

**And I hope this makes up for ruining Ring Around the Rosie, Adara! **

***kisses***

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John slammed the car door with his foot as he balanced the pizzas and walked up to the house. He wasn't surprised to find Lydia's car still here, which is why he ordered extra pizza.

When he got inside, he heard laughter coming from the living room. He smiled.

"How am I supposed to do this?" He heard Stiles say.

"Carefully," Lydia chuckled. "Very carefully."

John went into the living room and found Stiles and Lydia sitting in front of a game of Jenga. It was very high with holes galore in the tower. Stiles carefully slid out a block, his tongue sticking out in concentration. It came out no problem, but when he placed it on top, the whole pile crashed down, falling towards Lydia and hitting her knees as she screamed in surprise.

"Oh my God," Stiles said through his laughter. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, laughing herself.

"Having fun?" John asked, deciding to make his presence known. They both looked to the doorway and jumped up.

"Yeah," Lydia said. "Aside from being attacked by the Leaning tower of Jenga."

"Well," John said. "Come recover with some pizza."

He made his way to the kitchen and set the pizza on the table. When the kids got in there, he noticed that Lydia had changed, but not in the dress she was wearing. She was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, which he could only assume was hers, since they actually fit. Her hair was pulled back as well.

"So," he asked, curious as he pulled the parmesan out of the fridge. "What were you guys up to today?"

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other as Stiles brought plates to the table, as if debating with each other. Oh no. John's eyes narrowed as he sat down with them.

"Don't even bother trying to hide it," he said soberly. "Just tell me."

He prayed to God that it wasn't what he thought it was as they looked at each other again. He understood they were hormonal teenagers, but…

"We went and talked to Deaton," Stiles finally admitted. Oh, thank God.

He let out a breath. "What did he say?"

Stiles shrugged. "Just that it was affecting me differently and that it happens sometimes. He's looking for something to help."

"Alright," John said. "I hope he finds something." He never wanted to see his son like that again. They grabbed their pizza, and Lydia took a deep breath.

"You okay?" John asked her. She was looking at Stiles, debating something.

"He said it would probably be dangerous," she finally said quietly.

John's heart clenched. Of course it would be dangerous. He put his slice of pizza down, folding his hands in front of him.

"How dangerous?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "More dangerous than dying and coming back to life?"

"We, uh, don't know," Stiles said slowly before taking a bite.

John ran his hand through his hair. "I wanna be there when you find out. Call me when he calls you, Okay?"

Stiles nodded. "Okay."

He took a deep breath to steady himself, then picked up his pizza again. "So, where'd Scott go?"

"To go fill Isaac in," Lydia explained. "He'll be back in a little while."

John nodded.

They finished dinner, and started cleaning up. Stiles went to pick up the Jenga, while John and Lydia started to wash dishes. John washing, Lydia drying.

"So," Lydia said awkwardly. "I hope you don't mind, but I would kinda like to stay here until Deaton finds whatever he needs to."

John thought for a moment. That was actually a good idea. She helped keep Stiles out of that place, she needed to be with him as much as possible. "Alright, no problem."

She nodded. "Thanks. I just wanna make sure he stays okay, you know?"

John smirked, recognizing the emotion behind the words in her voice. "No, I get it. I want that, too."

They were silent for a minute before Lydia changed the subject. "It's not your fault, you know."

John looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"What happened last night," she explained. "It's not your fault that he decided to drink."

John shook his head and sighed. "You don't understand. I showed him that."

Lydia put a hand on his arm. "It doesn't matter. He's been through a _lot_ of crap over the past couple of years, but in the time that I've known him, not once has he thought about doing that. It's only after the darkness drove him to the absolute brink that he even thought about it. It was the darkness, not you."

John sighed again. Her argument made sense, but that didn't stop the guilt.

"Thanks, Lydia," he said.

She smiled. "You're welcome."

They went back to doing dishes.

Stiles came back in. "Geez, it's almost harder to get all of it back in the box then it is to keep it balanced."

John rolled his eyes. "If you would put it up like you're supposed to…" Stiles insisted on putting the cardboard in the box, _then_ putting the blocks in, which ended in a lot of frustration as they went in wrong.

"Excuse me for being creative," he said.

John looked at Stiles pointedly. "There's a difference between being creative and being difficult."

"Blame it on my ADD," Stiles sand as he came and leaned on the counter by the sink. "Well, AD_H_D."

John's face screwed up in confusion as Lydia chuckled.

"Sail," Stiles explained, "by AWOLNation." John shook his head slowly, not knowing. "God, Dad, I showed you that song, like, forever ago."

John shrugged.

"Must not have impressed him," Lydia interjected teasingly.

"Oh, hush, that song's amazing," Stiles told her. He dunked his fingers in the water and flicked them towards Lydia. She gasped with a shocked look on her face, and John tried not to laugh at her expression. She glared at Stiles half-heartedly and splashed him back. Stiles mocked offense and looked at his dad, a questioning on his face. He knew what Stiles was asking. John shrugged, stepping back and out of the way.

Stiles walked towards her, his hand dipping into the sink as he walked by it, a wicked smile on his face. His hand came up with a handful of bubbles.

Lydia's eyes widened. "Don't you dare." she started to back up.

Before she could back up very much, Stiles caught her around the waist and smothered the bubbles on the left half of her face as she squealed. He still had bubbles on his hand, so he did it on the other side of her face as well.

She sputtered, getting bubbles away from her lips. "You are _so_ dead," she said with a smile.

As Lydia started for the sink, John shook his head and left the room, memories swirling through his head.

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Stiles kept a hold of her waist as she tried to get to the sink.

"No," she squealed, before she stopped struggling. She turned around, facing him. "I will get you."

"No," he shook his head, "you won't."

"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow, her face still covered in soap. "We'll see about that."

She went for the sink again, taking him by surprise. She got her hands in the sink, then spun around and clapped her hands on his cheek, causing the bubbles to splatter all over his face.

"Got you," she said with a smug smile.

He got the soap from around his eyes and looked at her. God. Only she could still look that beautiful like this.

"Okay," he said, laughing. "You got me. Even?"

She pondered for a minute. "I guess."

"Okay." Stiles grabbed two towels and wet them, handing one to Lydia. After he got all the soap off, he looked at Lydia who had put her rag down, but still had soap by her right ear.

"Uh," he said. "You still have some…"

"Where?" she asked, grabbing the towel she had been using.

"Here," he said, holding his towel up and getting closer to her. "I'll get it."

He put his fingers under her chin and pushed her face gently to the side before wiping off the bubbles.

"Thanks," she said softly as he stepped back. She had the same smile that she was wearing earlier in front of the house. The school-crush smile. His stomach jumped. He wanted to kiss that smile, make it bigger, but he wasn't going to. Not after what had just happened with Aiden.

Reluctantly, he looked away and picked up the towels. He put them in a pile and let the water out of the sink as Lydia finished drying. Once they were finished there was a knock at the front door, and a minute later, Scott came in.

"Hey," he said. "You ready to study?"

"Yeah," Stiles answered.

They all went upstairs to Stiles' room and tried to focus on their History textbooks.

After three hours of quizzing each other, Stiles sat back and rubbed his eyes. God, he hated History.

"I think this is as good as we're gonna get," Scott said through a yawn. They had been over all the material, but Stiles wasn't sure if he would remember it for the test tomorrow. Not that was his biggest concern right now.

Scott looked at the time and sighed. "I should head home."

"Alright," Stiles said. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Scott got his backpack, "Bye, Lydia."

"Bye," she waved.

After he left, Stiles went to the linen closet and got extra blankets. When he got back to his room, Lydia had gone to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

He made a pallet on the floor for himself, and his dad came in and sat on the bed.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"I'm gonna take the floor, and let Lydia have the bed," he explained.

His dad nodded with a smile. "My son, the gentleman," he teased.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "It's what I'd do for anyone, Dad."

"I know," he replied. "Goodnight."

"'Night, Dad," Stiles said.

His dad got to the door, then turned around. "What made you two play Jenga?"

Stiles smiled. "We talked about the games we were best at as a kid, and we both said Jenga, so we wanted to see who was better."

"And Lydia won?"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded with a roll of his eyes. "Obviously."

"Of course," she said, squeezing past his dad. "I always win."

His dad chuckled. "I'm sure you do. 'Night guys."

Lydia turned to look at Stiles curiously. "What are you doing?"

He gestured at the pallet. "Getting ready for bed."

"Why are you making a pallet on the floor?' she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"So I have somewhere to sleep," he replied.

"Just use the bed," she said, confused.

He rolled his eyes. "Then where would you sleep?"

She looked at him incredulously, talking slowly. "The bed."

"Whoa – what?" His heart sped up a little.

"Your bed's big enough for both of us. That's what we did last night."

"Y-yeah," Stiles stuttered. "But that was, uh, you know, different."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "So the only way we can sleep in the same bed together is if you're wasted?"

He looked at her. "You know that's not what I mean."

"Yes, I do know," she said. "But that doesn't change anything. You can have one side, I'll have the other. Not a big deal.

"I don't know," Stile muttered. "Wouldn't it be kind of…awkward?" _He _thought it would be.

"Only if you let it," she said with an eye roll. She got up and crawled under the cover on the far side of the bed. "See, not awkward."

Stiles took a deep breath, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

"Okay," he said finally. He got up, grabbed a pair of pajamas from the drawers and headed to the bathroom to change.

After he changed, he brushed his teeth, wondering if this was even real. Just a year ago, this would've just been a dream. Now it was real, and he couldn't believe it. He and Lydia Martin were friends, and according to _everyone _else, something more. But what exactly?

He mulled over this thought as he finished brushing his teeth and took his Adderall.

When he got back in his room, Lydia was sitting at the edge of the bed, checking her phone.

"Hey," she said. "Is there an extra outlet around here?"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded. He made his way to the nightstand and held out his hand. "Hand me your charger."

She handed it to him and he plugged it in behind the nightstand.

"Thanks," she said with a sincere smile.

"No problem," he went to the other side of the bed and got in before turning off the lamp. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he felt Lydia toss and turn, getting comfortable. By the time she settled in, he could make out the outline of her body lying on its side. He laid there on his back and closed his eyes.

"You wanna know something?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he muttered.

"I'm jealous," she whispered.

He opened his eyes, twisting his head to look at her. The faint glow from the light outside shone in her emerald eyes. "Of who?"

"You," she said, "and the relationship you have with your dad."

"Why?" he asked, turning over onto his side to face her.

"Because you guys talk, and spend time together." She shrugged. "I don't have that with my dad."

He was silent for a minute before he asked. "Why is that?"

"I don't know," she shrugged again. "I mean he cares and all, but the last time we spent any real time together was after I was attacked." Her voice was getting softer.

He thought for a minute, trying to imagine that with his dad. He couldn't.

"That sucks," he said plainly. Wow, poetic freaking genius here.

"What are you gonna do?" she asked rhetorically as she drifted off to sleep.

Stiles just laid there, looking at her form in the dark. From the light outside, he could just see her as his eyes adjusted more. She was washed out by the pale light, but it didn't make her any less beautiful. She shifted, and a strand of hair fell across her face.

He closed his eyes and put his hand in between them, willing sleep to come. Of course that didn't happen. His mind was buzzing with everything that had happened. He hoped Deaton could find something, but he was terrified at what dangers could come with it. But he knew he would do whatever he had to do to stop this, no matter how dangerous of terrifying it was. Because he knew how much more dangerous it was to keep this darkness latched onto him. Whatever it was he had to do, he'd do it. Everything would be better after that.

_Do you honestly believe that?_

Oh, God, not now. He rolled over onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Everything _would_ be better. He knew it.

_Are you sure? Scott will still be a werewolf,  
your life will still be full of supernatural crap,  
and everyone who'd dead will still be dead._

Shut up! He ran his hand through his hair, his heart starting to race. He felt it creeping in, he could feel his spirit sinking.

_Erica, Boyd, Heather, your mom.  
It won't change anything about them.  
They'll still be gone._

Well atleast I'll be able to handle it better, he thought. He ran his hand over his face, thinking of everyone he cared about, like Scott said he did.

_Oh, you mean the people you put in danger every day?  
What a nice way to show them you care._

He sighed. Just get out. He felt the hold, and it wasn't loosening.

"Stiles?" he heard a sleepy voice say. "You okay?" Lydia's hand rested on his bicep.

He looked at her and she was leaning on her elbow and looking at him. As she rubbed his arm, he could feel the hold loosening.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered out. "I'm fine."

"Stiles," she said, a stern edge to her voice. He knew that she knew better.

"No," he sighed out finally, "I'm not okay. At all."

She rubbed his arm again and scooted closer to him. "It's okay, Stiles. I'm right here. Don't listen to it."

"I know," he said, taking a deep breath. "It's just hard."

"I know it's hard," she soothed. "But just listen to my voice."

He nodded. "Come here." He put an arm around her as she settled into his side, not caring about awkwardness anymore. He squeezed her tighter to him.

She nuzzled into him, and continued to talk to him. "You're kind, you're gentle, you're brave, you're strong, you're selfless, you're everything good. Don't let anyone or anything tell you different.

He rubbed her back, feeling almost normal again. "Thank you."

She looked up at him. "I mean every word."

He smiled a little.

As they relaxed into each other, Stiles finally figured out what he had been feeling for her. He thought he had been feeling it since third grade, but that was nothing compared to what he felt now. Now it was something deeper, something stronger.

Now Stiles knew what it was _really_ like to be in love with someone._  
_

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**Tell me what you think, I like it!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's chapter 6! I was absolutely amazed at the response I got at the last chapter, and appreciate every single word! I love all of you, especially the ones who are kind enough to review every single chapter! *hugs and kisses for everyone***

**I don't own Teen Wolf**

* * *

Lydia rolled over, half asleep. She was cold, so she pulled to covers up and stretched her arm out to find Stiles. He would be warm. But he wasn't there. She opened her eyes and found herself alone in the bed.

Confused, she sat up and robbed her eyes. When she looked up, Stiles was in front of his closet, looking at his shirts. He hadn't noticed her awake yet. She looked at the clock. 6:30 am. Why was he up this early? Didn't guys roll out of bed and be ready in twenty minutes for school? They still had an hour and a half.

She looked back at Stiles to ask him, his back still to her, but before she could get anything out, he ripped off his t-shirt and grabbed another from the closet. She stayed quiet, knowing he would probably be embarrassed if he knew he was half-naked in front of her, even though he certainly had no reason to be. His back was extremely well-toned, and she noticed that he had a large freckle on his left shoulder blade to go with the ones spotting his face. He was much more fit than she expected. Sure, he was on the lacrosse team, but he didn't play that much. Running from the supernatural must do him a lot of good.

He sprayed his deodorant on and turned around, stopping dead when he saw her looking at him. His hair was damp, she vaguely noticed before looking down quickly. She looked back up at him through her lashes, noting that his front was just as good as the back.

"Sorry," he stammered. "I, uh, I thought you were still asleep." He quickly put on his shirt, and she saw his blush in the dawn light creeping through the window.

"No," she said. "You're fine." And damn was he ever. She rolled her lips, looking down at her hands. "So…why are you getting ready?"

She glanced back up at him and he shrugged. "I woke up early, so I figured I'd get out of your way."

"Oh," she said. "Well, thank you." She crawled out of the bed and grabbed her bag. "I guess I'll start getting ready." Stiles nodded.

As she went down the hallway, Sheriff Stilinski came out of his bedroom in full uniform.

"Good morning, Lydia," he said. "Sleep okay?"

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, pretty well."

"Good," he replied.

She stepped into the bathroom, only to step back out. Sheriff Stilinski was walking down the hallway.

"Are you on patrol today?" she asked. He turned around and nodded. "For how long?"

"Until about two, then I'll spend the rest of the day in the station," he replied.

She bit her lip. "Is patrol really dangerous?"

"Sometimes," he looked at her curiously, "why?"

She shrugged. She didn't know why, but in the short time she'd spent with him, she'd grown to care for him and worry about him. She knew Beacon Hills was a small town, but it was far from boring, and while things had been quiet the past few weeks, you never knew what could happen. She wasn't having one of her Banshee feelings, but she was still concerned.

"Just…be careful," she said.

He took a step towards her. "Do you know something I don't?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's just…you never know in Beacon Hills."

He thought for a moment, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "You're sure there's nothing you need to tell me?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

He nodded slowly in turn. "Okay, if you're sure." He slowly walked to the stairs as she went into the bathroom.

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Stiles was reviewing his History notes one last time before the test. He was almost done when he heard a loud, continuous noise coming from the bathroom. He jumped before realizing it was a blow-dryer. He laughed as his heart slowed down, and went back to his notes.

A few minutes later, Lydia came in, her hair done in a braid down her back, wearing a light purple dress with black tights. She put down her bag and slid on her heels. They got their school stuff together and made their way downstairs.

Stiles put some bread in the toaster. "You want some?"

"No," she said, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. "I'm good."

He shrugged and waited for his toast, putting peanut butter on it when it was done.

"Ready for the test?" he asked when they were almost done.

She looked at him. "To be honest, not my biggest concern right now."

Stiles shrugged. "Mine either, but I still have to pass it."

She rolled her eyes with a small smile.

They finished their breakfast and jumped into the Jeep.

"Are you sure you don't wanna take your car?" he asked. "I have cross-country after school."

"It's okay," she said. "Don't wanna waste gas."

On the way there, they quizzed each other on their notes again, trying to keep their minds off of other things. When they got there, they went to their first class, which was chemistry, and they sat next to each other at the lab tables. They got a few looks, and even Stiles was surprised. She usually didn't sit with him. But he didn't question it. Today was going to be a _very_ interesting day.

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Lydia didn't have third period with Stiles, so she spent the whole class worrying about him, barely paying attention to class. She just wanted to get to lunch. It wasn't that she wanted to just check up on him, but she actually missed him. She had spent all of yesterday with him, and she didn't like not being around him. Believe her, she knew how crazy it sounded, but she didn't care.

The bell rang, and she jumped up and practically ran to the cafeteria. He was at the end of the line with Scott and Isaac, so she joined them.

"Hey," she said brightly.

"Hey," they all said in reply, but Lydia only noticed how Stiles grinned when he saw her.

She rolled her lips and smiled, looking down at her feet for a second before composing herself.

As they moved up in the line, she caught Scott's eye, and saw both him and Isaac's eyebrows were raised suggestively. She rolled her eyes as she grabbed a tray. They talked about classes as they made their way through the line. Allison was already sitting at their table when they got there, and she was talking to Danny, who was at the next table with Ethan, about their French homework.

They all sat down, Lydia making sure to sit next to Stiles, getting an odd look from Danny. Before he could say anything, Aiden came and sat next to Ethan. Danny looked even more confused – because Aiden _always_ sat next to Lydia – and leaned forward at his table to talk to Aiden. Great.

"Why isn't Aiden sitting with us?" Allison asked. That's right, Lydia hadn't told her yet.

"I was wondering the same thing myself," Isaac said, holding up a fry. "Not that I'm complaining." He shrugged as he popped the fry into his mouth.

Lydia shrugged. "We broke up yesterday."

Allison's eyes widened in compassion and she reached across the table to pat her best friend's hand. "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. We weren't that serious." It was the truth. They were never were serious, he just didn't want to be someone's distraction. It was very commendable.

"Well," Allison said. "It still sucks."

"Yeah." She wasn't denying that.

They continued their lunch, talking about different things until the bell rang for next period.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Actually, the next three days went by in a blur. They went to school, got to Stiles' house, did homework, and went to sleep. They would always eat dinner with Sheriff Stilinski, who insisted on Lydia calling him John, every night. Whether it be at the house or the station. It was nice. When they slept, they always ended up holding each other. Stiles seemed to be controlling the darkness pretty well, but it didn't matter. She would always end up curling up next to him, and he didn't hesitate to put his arm around her. It had become natural.

She still hadn't told him how she felt, though. She'd thought about it plenty of times, but she just couldn't get the words out. So she tried to show him instead. By rubbing his arm, or grabbing his hand, or cuddling with him at night. She was pretty sure he was catching on, but she didn't know if he caught on completely. She wanted to actually _tell_ him, but she couldn't.

Rumors had started flying around school about them, but she didn't care. If they wanted to think they were dating, she was fine with that. And honestly, after everything that happened with peter possessing her, she had gotten to the point where she just didn't care what people thought anymore.

By the fourth day of waiting on Deaton, she could tell Stiles was getting anxious. She was too, to be honest. What if he didn't find anything and Stiles had to live with the darkness trying to destroy him for the rest of his life?

There were a few times where she saw his face darken, and knew the darkness was starting to taunt him. She would just grab his hand or arm and bring him out of it. But she didn't know it that would work forever.

That's what she was thinking about as she made her way to Stiles' locker at the end of the school day.

He pulled out his phone as she came up to him, and a look of excitement overcame his features as he read whatever the text said.

"What?" she asked.

"Deaton found something," he said.

"Really?" her stomach jumped in surprise.

He nodded. "Let's go."

They half-ran to the Jeep, and as they got in, Lydia remembered something.

"We need to call your dad," she reminded him.

He sighed. "Yeah." He pulled out his phone and texted John, then started the car.

When they got there, both Scott and John were there already. They jumped out of the car and ran into the clinic, desperate to know what Deaton had found.

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"What did you find?" Stiles asked as soon as he stepped into the exam room, skipping formalities.

Deaton took a deep breath as Stiles went to stand by his dad and Lydia came up on the other side of him. Scott was standing by Deaton, and all of them were looking at the vet expectantly.

"First of all," he started. "This is the only thing I could find. I've been looking for two days for other options, but this is it."

Stiles' stomach dropped, because he knew whatever it was, it was bad. "Just tell me what it is."

Deaton nodded. "Essentially what will happen is I will put you into a very deep hypnosis, putting you into your subconscious. From there you will have to fight off the darkness and subdue it."

"How do I do that?" he asked.

"By counteracting it," Deaton continued. "It will try to destroy your resolve and willpower, but you can't let it. By keeping strong and fighting back, you will subdue it to where it can't manifest itself like it's been doing. It will still be there, but not in a way where it will taunt you and hurt you."

Stiles nodded slowly. That sounded awesome actually. But what was the dangerous part that made him wait two days to tell them?

He was scared to ask, but he did anyway. "What happens if it wins?"

Deaton closed his eyes and leaned forward on the examination table, shaking his head. "If it overpowers you, it will trap you in your subconscious. You would be in a coma."

Stiles could feel his chest tightening, but fought against it. "Coma as in…brain-dead."

Deaton nodded slowly. "The ritual hasn't been done often, but if the darkness wins, the person is unresponsive and…dies if not given medical attention."

Stiles focused on breathing normally.

"So you want my son to risk his life again?" He heard his dad ask angrily.

He didn't hear anything after that. He was too lost in thought. He knew he had to do this, but he didn't know if he was strong enough. The idea of being trapped in his sub-conscious terrified him, but he knew that doing this was the only way. If it would get rid of this hold the darkness had on him, he was not only protecting himself, but everyone he loved as well. He didn't have a choice. He had to do it.

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John couldn't believe it. How could Deaton expect Stiles to risk his life like that? It was insane!

"I don't _expect_ him to do anything," Deaton said calmly. "I am only giving him an option. He doesn't have to do it."

John looked at his son, who was lost in thought.

"Stiles," he said, putting a hand on his son's shoulder to bring him out his thoughts. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

He was half-hoping, half-praying that Stiles wouldn't do this. The risk was too much. He couldn't lose his boy.

"No," Stiles said. "I'll do it."

John's eyes closed, taking a deep breath before opening them again. "Stiles-"

"Dad," he interrupted. "I'm doing it. It's the only option we have." Stiles wouldn't look at him.

John turned Stiles around and _made_ his son look at him, grabbing his shoulders. "No, it's not," he pleaded, desperate. "We can figure something else out."

"No, we can't, Dad!" Stiles yelled, obviously frustrated as he shrugged off his father's touch. "Didn't you hear Deaton? This is the only way!"

John rubbed his hand down his face, trying to keep it together. He could feel the tears stinging his eyes, threatening to spill over. He couldn't lose it, not now.

"Please, Stiles," he said, his voice shaking, betraying his emotions. "Just think about it. Do you realize how dangerous this is?"

"Of course I do!" Stiles said. "But it's the only thing I _can_ do! The only other option is not doing anything, and how is that better? If I don't do anything, the darkness could destroy me, and then what? What could it make me do? What if it gets so far in my head that it convinces me the only way to end it is to do something horrible to one of you?"

"Has it tried to do that before?" Deaton asked.

Stiles shrugged. "It convinced me that drinking would help, who knows what else it could do?"

They all stood in silence for a moment as it sank in. Stiles was gonna do it, and no one was talking him out of it.

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**As always, please tell me what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here you go guys! I totally meant to post this yesterday, but Halloween got in the way. Sorry! Again, I'd like to thank all of the people reading this story, and giving me encouragement to continue. *hugs and kisses***

**I don't own Teen Wolf**

* * *

They had gone back to Stiles' house to wait until Deaton closed to do the ritual. Everyone ended up there with them. Scott, Allison, Isaac, even Mrs. McCall. Everything had been explained to the group, and Mrs. McCall looked just as worried and scared as John.

"And you're sure this is the only way?" Mrs. McCall asked when they had finished explaining.

"We're sure," Scott said soberly as Stiles nodded. Lydia had been holding his hand the entire time, trying to be strong for him. He seemed okay on the surface, but she could tell by the sight shaking in his hand when they talked about it that he was scared, and she knew he wasn't going to admit it. So she just held his hand, trying to let him know it was going to be okay. Even though she wasn't sure herself.

The tightness in her chest hadn't loosened one bit since Deaton told them, and the more they talked about it, the worse it got. She kept telling herself that it was gonna be fine, because he was strong and would beat the darkness, and she believed it. But it didn't stop the stupid what-ifs to creep into her mind. What if the darkness did win? Would they take him to the hospital? Would it be better that way, or would the darkness just be able to taunt him more? She didn't know what the best option would be. She didn't think any of them did.

They talked over it more, going over the same questions that they had no answers for. Finally, she couldn't handle it anymore, so she excused herself and went to the bathroom to catch her breath.

Her hands gripped the sides of the sink as she took deep breaths to calm herself, trying to ignore the stinging in her eyes.

Alone, she finally let herself think. She couldn't lose Stiles. She kept telling herself she wouldn't, but the fear was too much. She couldn't lose him. Even when she ignored him, he had always been there for her, ready to help her. He was the one constant in her life. He didn't care that she was a total bitch to him, he just wanted to help. That's what had gotten him into this mess, wanting to help. Everything that happened to any of them, he was always right there, willing to do anything for the people he cared about, and sometimes for the people he hated. She thought he was a complete idiot sometimes for being like that. But she couldn't imagine life without him.

She couldn't see life without this boy. The one who would drop everything to help someone. The first boy to call her beautiful. The boy she was in love with.

A sob escaped her, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, knowing that the wolves would hear her.

Dammit, she thought. She had come in here to take a breath, not cry like an idiot. She knew Stiles would be okay, she knew it.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to steady herself. A few more tears fell, but she got control of herself. She wasn't going to cry. She was going to be there for Stiles and be strong for him. She wasn't going to grieve the possibility of losing him, because she wasn't going to.

There was a knock at the door.

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John had gone into the kitchen to make some coffee, followed by Melissa. She was silent as he prepared the coffee pot and let it brew.

"How are you holding up?" she finally asked.

He sighed, leaning on the counter. "Honestly, I don't know."

She leaned on the counter across from him. "He'll be okay. He's strong and brave, and he has a lot of things to fight for. He'll win this."

He nodded slowly, trying to push away the nagging at the pit of his stomach. "I know all that."

"But you're still worried," she said. "I understand."

He put his face in his hands, tears springing to his eyes. "I can't help. I know he's strong enough to do this, but he's already been through so much. They all have."

He felt a delicate hand on his wrist as Melissa tried to get him to look at her. He let her pull his hand away and stared at her.

"And they've gotten through it all," she said. "Stiles will get through this. Probably not unscathed, but alive."

"The 'not unscathed' part is what I'm worried about," he replied.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Me, too."

They stood in silence as the coffee brewed.

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Stiles had gotten worried when Lydia had gone to the bathroom. She didn't look very good, so when it had been almost ten minutes, he decided to go and check on her.

He knocked on the door. "Lydia? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said through the doorway, but he could hear a thickness in her voice that gave away that she had been crying.

"Lydia," he said, making sure his concern showed in his voice. He knew they were all scared about tonight – God knew he was terrified – but he didn't want her to cry about it.

"I'm fine," she snapped, but her voice cracked at the end.

She opened the door, and though she had a look of fierce determination on her face, her eyes held unshed tears.

"Ly-"

"No," she said, putting a hand up in front of her to stop him. "I'm okay. Because you're gonna do this ritual tonight, and you're gonna come back, and everything will be okay."

She pushed past him to go back downstairs, but Stiles gently grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back.

"Look," he started. "I know you're scared-"

"No I'm not," she interrupted quickly. "I'm not scared because I know you're coming back."

He nodded. "Well yeah, I'm gonna try my damn hardest, but it might not be enough, and you have to-"

"No," she said again. "If you're trying your hardest, you're gonna come back because you're Stiles and you always make it through."

He laughed silently in disbelief. She was in denial. Full blown-denial. There was a good possibility that he wasn't coming back, but she wasn't gonna have it. He liked that she had that confidence in him, but that would just make him not coming back harder. Everyone else atleast accepted it as a possibility, even though they had the utmost confidence in him. He could deal with that. What he couldn't deal with was someone not even considering the bad that could happen as an option.

That's what he had done with his mom, and look how that turned out.

"Lydia," he said seriously. "You're not really thinking like that."

"Yes," she said. "I am."

"You have to be realistic," he told her.

Her determined look faltered a little. "I am."

"No," he shook his head. "You're not."

She rolled her lips and looked away, obviously frustrated. "I can't think realistically!" she half-yelled. "I just can't. I tried, I couldn't."

Stiles was bewildered. "Why not?"

"Because I love you, dammit!" She yelled.

Stiles' brain stopped working for a minute as her eyes widened, realizing what she said.

"What?" He finally got out.

She took a deep breath, clasping her hands together. "I said…because I love you…dammit."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She…loved him?

"Am I dreaming?" he asked.

She gave him an annoyed glare. "Are you seriously joking right now?"

"No," he said fervently. "I'm honestly wondering if I'm dreaming."

"You're not dreaming," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I love you, and I can't think 'realistically' because I can't imagine life without the spastic, hyperactive, sarcastic boy that is Stiles Stilinski or even entertain the possibility."

All he could do was stand there in shock. There were so many things he wanted to say, but all he could get out was stuttered muttering.

After a minute, she rolled her eyes again. "We done? Good." She turned on her heel and stalked towards the stairs.

"Wait!" he finally got out as her feet landed on the first step. She took a deep breath and turned around, looking at him with a mixture of annoyance and anger, and stepped back up.

"What?" she snapped. "We need to get back down there, or they're gonna worry."

He took a deep breath, making himself stand taller as he prepared.

"I love you, too," he said. "And I'm sorry I'm putting you through all this crap, and I mean _all _of it. You know I'm gonna fight my hardest tonight to get back to you and everyone else." He stepped closer to her, leaving mere inches between them. "But you have to be prepared just in case it's not enough. And I know it's hard to think that way, believe me I know, but you have to. Because if you don't it just makes it that much worse if it happens."

He took a breath, and Lydia was just looking at him. Her eyes were filling with tears, and as she blinked slowly, a few escaped, tracing a path down her cheeks. Without thinking, he gently wiped them away.

"I thought you said I looked beautiful when I cried," she said with a small smile.

"Yeah," he answered. "You do. You always look beautiful. But it doesn't mean I like seeing this beautiful, especially when I'm the reason." He had never wanted to be the reason she was this upset, but here they were.

They looked at each other, and Stiles suddenly realized how close they were. She just stared at him, a small smile playing on her lips. There it was again. That school-crush smile that made his stomach jump.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he closed the distance between them and crashed his lips to hers, and then he didn't think at all as his body took over.

He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other with his hand on the back of her neck, holding her there. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck, her hands running through his hair, sending chills down his spine. The tip of her tongue ran over his lips, and he opened his mouth to let her in. He moved the hand on the back of her neck put it around her waist before lifting her up so they were on the same level and spun around, facing away from the staircase. He gently set her down and reluctantly pulled out of the kiss to catch his breath, but kept his forehead against hers, not letting go of her.

"You held your breath," she said with a smile, short of breath herself.

"I guess you just take my breath away," he said, smiling. Then he groaned, realizing what he said. "That was really cheesy, wasn't it?"

"Extremely," she laughed, "but it's okay."

She pulled him in for a softer, gentler kiss. His phone went off.

"It's, uh, probably Deaton," he said, pulling out of the kiss to grab his phone. She sighed, but let him read the text.

**Everything's set. Are you ready?**

He texted back:

**Ready as ever. On our way.**

"We have to go," he said, putting his phone back in his pocket, hiding his fear.

She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "Okay." She grabbed his hand and they headed downstairs.

Scott, Allison, and Isaac were in the living room by themselves, and he realized something as he saw the looks on their faces. The damn werewolves heard everything, and from the look on Allison's face, they had relayed it to her.

"I'm gonna go get your dad and Mrs. McCall," she said, patting his arm before leaving him standing there. He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"So," he said. "How much of that did you guys hear?"

"Enough to know it was _breathtaking_," Isaac answered with a teasing smile.

Stiles rolled his eyes with a groan, tilting his head back in embarrassment. "Never speak of that. Ever."

"I thought it was sweet," Allison said.

Stiles sighed. Of course she would think that.

Scott was about to say something, but just then, Melissa and his dad came in with Lydia.

Stiles could see the sadness and fear in his dad's eyes, despite the strong face he put on, and felt the guilt creeping in . He knew how hard this was gonna be for him. The fact that his dad might watch him die was enough to make him have second thoughts about this whole thing, but he knew that he had to do it. He would just have to fight as hard as he could and then some to get back.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''

They all waited silently in the waiting room as Deaton put the finishing touches in preparation for the ritual. Lydia was restless, but sat right next to Stiles, John on his other side. Deaton was burning herbs that would help Stiles stay under hypnosis, and would help him go deeper into his subconscious.

"Alright," Deaton said as he came into the waiting room. "As I told you earlier, I'll have to put Stiles under hypnosis alone. Once he's under, you can come in. From there, you can talk to him, and encourage him. Are you ready, Stiles."

Lydia looked at him as he nodded. He stood up, and John wrapped him in a hug.

"I love you," John told him. "Don't let that thing tell you otherwise."

Stiles nodded. "I love you too, Dad."

They all hugged him, giving him words of encouragement.

"Kick its ass," Scott told him before embracing him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Can't breathe," Stiles choked out after a minute. Scott let him go with an apology and a laugh, though Lydia could see the sheen in his eyes.

Allison squeezed him tightly. "You can do this." Stiles nodded.

"Good luck," Isaac said, grasping Stiles' hand and pulling him in for a "man hug."

Stiles clapped Isaac's back. "Need all of that I can get," he said with a smirk.

When Melissa hugged him, she had tears threatening to spill over in her eyes.

"Come back," she said.

"You know I will," he said with a small, reassuring smile.

"Good," she said cracking a smile herself. "'Cause someone has to keep Scott in line."

Stiles gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."

He looked at Lydia, and she hugged him with a vice-tight grip. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She looked up at him, her chest getting tighter as he let her go. He stepped back, but before he could get any farther, she grabbed his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, not caring that everyone was watching them.

When she pulled away, he had a small smile on his face. "What was that for?"

"Good luck," she replied.

She watched as he joined Deaton at the doorway and disappeared.

Lydia could feel her chest tightening with worry even more. This was actually happening. Her heart raced, and it suddenly felt like an oven in the waiting room. As everyone sat down nervously to wait, she didn't move. She knew if she did, she would barge in there, grab Stiles, and run away with him, whether he liked it or not.

"Lydia," she heard Allison say in concern. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," she stuttered out. "I just, uh… I need some air."

She rushed outside, thankful that it was a cool night. She took deep breaths as she leaned against the building a few feet from the door.

Stiles is going to be okay, she told herself. He's gonna be fine. You're overreacting. He's going to win this.

Then doubt crept in. But what will he have to go through in order to win?

She hit the back of her head against the building. She did _not_ need to think about that right now.

"Lydia?"

She looked towards the door to see John walking to her.

"Hey," she said, forcing a small smile. "It was getting kind of warm in there. I'll be back in there in a minute."

He stood across from her, his arms crossed as he looked at her with concern. "You don't have to pretend, Lydia. It's okay if you're scared. We all are."

"I really don't wanna talk about it," she said briskly.

John nodded with a deep sigh. "Some things you need to talk about."

"If it's so okay, then why aren't you showing how scared you are?" she asked with an edge to her voice.

"I'm terrified, Lydia," he admitted. "My son is there risking his life _again_, and there is _nothing_ I can do to help if it goes south!" He was yelling at this point. "So yeah, I'm scared! But I have to be strong for him!" His voice faltered, and he took a deep, shaky breath. "I have to be there for him."

"That's how I feel," she replied softly. "That I need to be strong for him."

John sighed and leaned against the building next to her. "Then I guess we're on the same page."

They stood in silence for a minute as Lydia willed herself to calm down. Finally, when she felt in control again, she looked at John, who looked like he was close to cracking. She took his hand, not knowing what else to do.

"Lydia," he said, looking towards the sky. "I'm not gonna lose him, right?"

She shook her head. "No, you're not."

She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around his waist. He hugged her back and she felt tears fall into her hair as his body shook silently.

She let him cry, letting a few tears go herself. She had grown close to this man in the past few days, and in that short time, he had acted more like a father towards her than hers had in a long time. Hell, he had acted more like a father towards her when he found her in the woods last year. He was just a loving man who wanted to protect. That's why he was the Sheriff. It's where Stiles got it. He was being punished along with Stiles in this whole situation, and she hated it.

He pulled out of the hug after a while, and wiped his hand across his cheeks, taking a deep breath.

"Dammit," he laughed, trying to ease the tension. "So much for staying strong."

She laughed a little, before becoming serious. "You're one of the strongest people I know. Sometimes you just have to have a little breakdown when things get to be too much, but it doesn't make you any weaker, it just makes you human."

John cracked a smile, shaking his head. "You're really something, Lydia, you know that?"

"That's a good thing, right?" she asked, only half-joking. The only time she ever heard that was when someone was mad at her.

"Yes," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's a _very_ good thing."

They went back to the door, and just as they stepped inside, Deaton came out of the exam room.

"Alright," he said. "You can come in now."

* * *

**Please tell me what you think, it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here you guys go! I worked hard on this chapter to try and make it good, so I hope I did!**

**Again, I wanna thank everyone who reads this story, and encourages me to continue. You guys have no idea how important it is to me!**

**I don't own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

Stiles opened his eyes, and he was standing in the middle of a small white room. Only, it wasn't all white. There were weird black stripes – no, cracks – in the walls, seeping into the white, making the edges of the cracks gray.

He looked around the room, taking it in. There was no furniture, no door, just the walls.

So this is what your subconscious looks like.

When he spun back to where he had started, he jumped in shock. There was a black figure in the corner of the room.

He froze, filling with dread as the figure stepped forward. It was just a black mass in the shape of a man. This was the darkness manifesting itself.

"Very good, Stiles," it said, 'clapping' its hands. He didn't know how a shadow could make noise, but it did. It didn't have a mouth to move, but it was talking to him. "You figured it out. I have to say, I admire your bravery. Your willingness to die for the people you love. It's why I like you – but you already knew that. There is one thing you haven't figured out, though."

"What's that?" Stiles asked, pushing past his fear.

"How to beat me," it replied simply. He walked towards Stiles, and then vanished.

Stiles spun around, and suddenly, he wasn't in the white room anymore. He was standing in Beacon Hills Cemetery, right in front of his mother's grave. It read:

Claudia Stilinski  
Loving wife, mother, and human being

Along with the dates of her birth and death.

He shook his head, confused. What the hell just happened?

Then, right before his eyes, the words on the headstone changed

Claudia Stilinski  
Killed by her own son

Stiles' stomach dropped to the ground as he backed up, tear springing in his eyes. "No, no."

He heard a female voice – his mom's voice – all around him, reverberating in his head. "Why Stiles, why? All I ever did was love you."

"No," he said, putting his hands over his ears and closing his eyes. "You're not real."

"You insisted on going to the park that day…" 'She' continued.

Suddenly, he was standing on the edge of the park playground. He could see himself – well, his seven year-old self – playing with a seven year-old Scott. He slowly looked to his left, knowing his mother would be standing a few feet away.

His throat constricted when he saw her.

She was laughing and talking with Melissa. He had forgotten how pictures couldn't do her justice. Yes, you could tell she was beautiful, but you couldn't see the kindness in her laugh, or the love flowing from every move she made.

He didn't remember moving, but suddenly he was close enough to touch her. Before he could, however, she looked at her watch and jumped up.

"Stiles," she called sweetly. She would always call him by his nickname in public. He was always embarrassed by his real name. "It's time to go."

"Mom," young Stiles groaned from the monkey bars. "Just a few more minutes?"

She shook her head with a smile. "Sorry sweetie, but we have dinner with Daddy's boss, remember?"

Young Stiles pouted and looked at Scott, who was pouting as well. Then a smile broke over his face with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You have to come get me," he called as he climbed the monkey bats and hung from them by his knees.

His mom sighed, smirking. "You know you're gonna lose, right?" She went to charge for him, but didn't get very far before she suddenly stopped, swaying.

Stiles closed his eyes. He didn't wanna see this. He knew what happened. His mom would collapse; Melissa would run to her and check her pulse. He would run to her screaming.

"Mom!" he heard his young self say. "Mommy!"

Melissa would call an ambulance, and the doctors would find the cancer, and it would all go downhill from there. Stiles would blame himself because he made her run.

"Stop!" he yelled. He had to fight back. He couldn't let it get to him.

He opened his eyes, and he was in his kitchen, his dad sitting at the table. In front of him was a bottle of Jack, almost empty, and he was holding a picture of Claudia. Nine-year old Stiles stood in the doorway.

As his dad picked up the bottle to take another swig, the young Stiles stepped forward and grabbed his father's hand to stop him.

"Dad," he said calmly. "I think you should go to bed. You have work in the morning."

His dad nodded with a sigh, his cloudy eyes trying to focus on his son. "You're probably right." He stood up slowly, leaving the picture on the table. He ruffled Stiles' short hair as he walked past him. "'Night, buddy."

"'Night, Dad." He went to the table and grabbed the bottle and picture, putting the bottle in the cabinet, and then stopped to look at the picture.

Stiles remembered what he felt when he looked at that picture. He had felt so guilty because he thought it was all his fault. Now, of course, he knew better. He knew that it would've happened anyway. He knew the cancer was still there. But a nine year-old Stiles didn't understand that. All he knew was that his mom fainted because he had egged her on. At nine, he thought that if he had just listened to her, none of this would've happened. His mom wouldn't have died, and his dad wouldn't be drinking.

_Stop!_ He thought.

He blinked, and he was in the woods, watching him and Scott trekking through the woods, trying to find a body.

Blink.

He was watching Scott try to kill him in the locker room before his first full moon.

Blink.

He watched himself running across the lacrosse field towards Lydia, who was about to be mauled by Peter.

Blink.

He was in the police station, watching Matt shoot Scott, and Melissa freaking out.

He looked away and closed his eyes, not being able to watch any of it again. He's had enough, the guilt was starting to crush him and he knew it would only get worse.

"STOP!" he yelled at the top of the lungs.

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They all sat around the exam room, taking turns talking to Stiles, reminding him of the good things, because they knew he was being reminded of the bad. They weren't sure if he could hear them, but Lydia sure hoped they could. She was sitting on the floor in the far corner by the sink. She hadn't taken a turn yet, because she wasn't sure what to say. There were a lot of things she _wanted _to say, but she wasn't sure where to start.

Mrs. McCall was talking to him now, holding his hand. Lydia watched as the woman talked to him softly, occasionally brushing his hair back. She didn't notice when Scott came and slid down next to her.

"Hey," he said, causing her to jump. She put a hand to her chest. "Sorry. How are you holding up?"

She shrugged. "Okay, I guess." She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "I just wish I could figure out what to say to him."

"Whatever you're thinking," Scott told her. "Let it come from the heart."

She sighed. "If I could get my head to organize what's coming from my heart, I wouldn't be having this issue."

Scott nodded in understanding. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Lydia tried yet again to organize her thought. Allison came and sat down on the other side of her.

Finally, she smiled instinctively as a memory of Stiles played in her head. It was the first time she really looked at him as a person, and not some idiot that Jackson didn't like.

"What?" Allison asked.

"Nothing," she dismissed quickly, biting her lip to hide the smile.

"No, tell us," Allison said, nudging her arm. "It might help you organize your thoughts if you say them out loud."

She looked over at Stiles, where John had taken Mrs. McCall's seat, but Mrs. McCall was still there, a hand on his shoulder as he held his son's hand.

She looked back at Scott and Allison, who had followed her gaze to Stiles. She rested her head on her knees. "You know, he was the first boy to ever call me beautiful."

"Really?" Scott asked, utter disbelief plain in his voice. "I find that hard to believe."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying guys never told me that I was attractive. But it's always 'hot', or 'smoking', of 'fine'. Never beautiful. I mean, all of those things are nice, but they're all…physical. That's all they can be interpreted as." She shook her head, smiling. "But that night at the dance, when Jackson completely blew me off, Stiles looked right at me and told me that he thought I looked beautiful. When I looked into his eyes, I knew he meant it, and I knew he wasn't just talking about my dress…"

She took a deep breath as Allison put her arm around her.

Isaac came in with coffee at that moment, drawing a round of thank yous from the group.

Lydia started to get up to grab her coffee, but Isaac was in front of her before she could, holding her coffee out to her.

"Thanks," she said softly as she took the cup and he handed Allison and Scott theirs.

"No problem," he replied, sitting down with them with his own. His long, lanky legs folded up underneath him. "Anything happen while I was gone?"

"Ms. Morrell stopped by," Allison informed him. "Deaton is in his office with her now."

"Nothing with Stiles, though?" he asked. They shook their heads. He glanced back at Stiles, and looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.

"What is it?" Scott asked.

"Nothing," Isaac said, scratching the back of his neck with a sigh. "It's just…It's been almost six hours. When should we start worrying?"

Scott shrugged soberly. "Mom's been checking his vitals regularly, and he's been fine so far."

"I know," Isaac said. "It's just…I don't know." He sighed, and they drank their coffee in silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

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Stiles was back in the room, his hear still beating rapidly, and the guilt still trying to suffocate him.

"What?" the darkness asked innocently. "Can you not handle what you've done? How much you've hurt the people you love just by existing? Really, Genim, it's quite pathetic."

Stiles' hands were balled into fists on either side of him. This thing was _really_ pissing him off.

"You don't get to call me that," Stiles said venomously. As his anger bubbled up inside of him, he could feel the weight of the guilt lighten.

The darkness just laughed. "You don't have any power over me, you ignorant boy! I will call you whatever I like."

"Actually," Stiles said, something clicking in his brain. "I do have power over you." He took a few steps toward the black mass. "You see this is _my _subconscious. This is _my_ body! And I am sick and tired of you trying to destroy it, so I'm not going to let you anymore."

The weight lifted off of him completely. He could feel the room start to change into a memory, but he stopped it.

"No!" He yelled. "I am done with this! I am done with you!"

He made himself think of good, powerful memories, and they swirled around them. His dad and him talking and spending time together in the squad car. Him and Scott playing video games all day, not caring about the supernatural crap. When he played first-line at the lacrosse game and won the game, his dad being so proud. The way Lydia looked at him when he scored. Helping contain the Kanima, the mountain-ash stretching itself to be enough because he believed. Saving his dad and everyone else from the collapsing cellar with the aluminum bat. Lydia kissing him out of the panic attack. His dad hugging him and assuring him how wrong his thoughts were after his breakdown.

The shadow was fading, and that only encouraged Stiles.

His friends and him hanging out and laughing, actually enjoying themselves instead of worrying about a supernatural threat. Lydia telling him she loved him. The way they kissed.

The figure was gone, and Stiles let it go back to the room.

He couldn't believe it. It actually worked. He had defeated the darkness.

He couldn't help it, he cheered, punching his fist in the air.

He took one last look at the room, at the cracks. He would have to ask Deaton about them. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, preparing to wake himself up like Deaton had said so.

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes, and he was still in the room. Was it just him of were the cracks getting darker?

He chased that thought out of his head, and shook out his arms to release some tension.

"Okay," he told himself. "You can do this. Just relax and focus."

He closed his eyes again, focusing on waking up. Nothing.

_Wake up,_ he thought. _Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

_Did you honestly think that it would be that easy?_

Stiles' eyes snapped open. He spun around, looking for the figure, but I t was nowhere to be found. He wasn't imagining it. The cracks _were_ getting darker.

_Did you really think it would be that simple to get rid of me?_

It seemed like the voice was coming from the walls. The cracks were starting to bleed out a black, oily liquid, slowly trailing down the wall. What the hell was going on?

_You can leave when I say you can leave._

Shock hit him like a punch to the gut.

Oh, God, no. This couldn't be happening. He was supposed to go back. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He was supposed to wake up and live his life.

_Oh, no, dear Stiles.  
I have a different plan for you._

The darkness had trapped Stiles in his subconscious.

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Lydia had been sitting there calmly – well, as calmly as she could – nursing her coffee as the time inched by. She stood up and started pacing slowly, not being able to sit still any longer. She went to take another sip of coffee when both her stomach and chest clenched. She grabbed her chest with both hands, dropping her coffee. This was bad. This was one of her Banshee feelings. Her breath came in short gasps, and she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Isaac, the one closest to her, asked.

She shook her head. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Her head snapped to Stiles, and the lurch in her stomach confirmed what she thought.

"No," she choked out. 'We – we have to wake him up."

Everyone's eyes widened as Melissa ran to Stiles, checking his vitals.

"Deaton!" John yelled desperately. Both Deaton and Morrell ran into the room. Deaton took one look around the room, landing on Melissa and Stiles.

"Both his breathing and heartbeat has slowed significantly," she said quickly. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and tossed them to Isaac, who caught them immediately. "Get the bag out of the trunk. Now!"

Isaac didn't waste any time, rushing out the door.

Lydia found her voice again as tears sprung to her eyes.

"Deaton, wake him up!" she screamed. "Wake him up!"

Deaton put his hands on either side of Stiles' head and quietly said something in a foreign language that Lydia could have probably translated if her brain was working properly, but nothing happened. Stiles just laid there. Deaton tried again, but to no avail.

"What's happening?" Scott asked in a panicked voice.

Isaac came back in with a large duffel bag and rushed it to Melissa.

"The darkness," Deaton said with a forced calm, "it's trapped him."

"What?!" John said. "You said it wouldn't come to that! You said he was strong enough!"

Melissa was going through the bag, pulling out one of those breathing bags, placing it on Stiles' mouth an squeezing it, forcing air into him.

Scott slid down the wall, a fist over his mouth, trying to keep himself calm. Lydia saw his eyes flash red, but only for a second before he got control.

"I never guaranteed anything because I couldn't," Deaton snapped. "And while I thought it was unlikely to happen, it has, and now we have to stay calm!"

"Deaton," Mrs. McCall said, one hand squeezing the bag, the other on Stiles' pulse point on his neck. "I need your help. His pulse is too weak." She was in full-on nurse-mode.

Deaton nodded, grabbing a pair of scissors and cutting Stiles' shirt open and starting CPR, forcing Stiles' heart to keep pumping.

Lydia's hand went to her mouth as a sob escaped, causing Allison to look at her. She had tears in her eyes herself, but she went over to comfort her friend, wrapping her in a hug.

"Let's go," she said, taking charge and started herding everyone out of the room.

John stood against the wall, one second away from losing it. Lydia went over to him and put a hand on his arm. He didn't even register her presence, he just looked at stiles, breathing with difficulty. Lydia got him out of there, and into the waiting room.

Finally, standing in the waiting area, her brain kicked in, and she took a deep breath before going back into the exam room to Deaton.

"There has to be something we can do!" she said, trying to keep her voice even and failing. It shook as tears continued down her face. "Anything!"

"I don't know," he said, focusing on keeping Stiles' heart beating.

"There might be something," Morrell said slowly from the doorway.

She stalked over to where the book Deaton had used was sitting and flipped through it before stopping on a page with a small look of triumph on her face.

"There's one thing," she said, bring the book to Deaton. He glanced over it quickly, not breaking stride with the compressions to Stiles' chest. He looked at Lydia with wide eyes as Mrs. McCall checked Stiles' pulse again and had Deaton stop the compressions.

"His pulse is steady for now. Thank you, Deaton."

He nodded, stepping back. He looked at Morrell. "It's too dangerous."

"More dangerous than this?" Lydia yelled. "If there's something we can do, why the hell aren't we doing it?"

"It's extremely dangerous," Deaton explained. "And yes, more dangerous than this, because there are more fails than successes!"

"Just tell me what it is!" Lydia demanded.

"It would put the emotional tether under, melding both of the people together into the first person's – in this case, Stiles – subconscious. You – the emotional tether – are supposed to snap him out of it and bring him back," Morrell said. "But if it fails, both of you die instead of just him."

"And of all the people to attempt this, only a minute portion of them succeeded," Deaton interjected. "It's too dangerous."

"Were any of these people like me?" Lydia asked. "A Banshee?"

"It's not recorded," Deaton said.

"Look," she pleaded. "I have a…connection, or something, with death. Maybe it could help me."

"It's true," Morrell said. "It could give her an advantage."

"Please" Lydia begged.

Deaton closed his eyes with a sigh. "Stiles wouldn't like this."

"Well, we didn't like him doing what he did," Lydia retorted. "I really don't give a damn what he would like right now. I just want him to live."

"Okay," Deaton said somberly.

He had her lay down on the floor, and he burned some more of the herbs. He spoke in the same language he had a few minutes ago, and Lydia could feel herself slipping away. She just prayed that she wasn't too late.

* * *

**I'm so sorry. Please don't hurt me! You can yell at me all you want, though, I totally deserve it.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here you go! I'm so sorry I didn't update sooner! I had a very small case of writer's block, then I wasn't around a computer long enough to finish it until now. But I finished it, and here it is! **

**Again, thank you for all your support for this story. You honestly have no idea how much it means to me. And thank you for only giving me one death threat on the last chapter. I hated doing that. Love you guys!**

**I don't own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

Stiles was frantically pounding on the walls, trying to find a trap door or something.

Yes, he knew this wasn't really a room, but he was too desperate to care. Surely his brain put in an escape hatch, right?

He barely noticed that the black liquid was splashing onto him every time he hit the wall, covering him like crude oil.

He didn't know how long he did that, but his hands were stinging, cuts from the sharp edges of the cracks marking the walls with red that mixed with the black. Every now and then, he heard laughter ring through the walls.

He went over all of the walls, every freaking inch, but found nothing.

"Dammit," he said, anger and hatred for the darkness filling him. "Screw you!"

Now he was hitting the wall simply to get frustration out, but it wasn't enough. The more he hit them, the more desperation built up in him, which made him hit harder. It was a never-ending cycle. He started kicking as well, panic getting the better of him.

"JUST LET ME OUT!" He screamed in frustration.

_Now why would I do that? We're having so much fun._

Stiles leaned his forehead against the wall, a contemptive laugh escaping him. "You think you're funny? THIS! ISN'T! FUN!"

He slammed his hand against the wall with the last three words before pushing away to the middle of the room.

The black liquid was all over the front of him, and it was starting to pool on the floor, making its way to the center of the room.

"THIS IS MY _LIFE_!" He roared. "AND YOU'RE MESSING WITH IT! HOW IS THAT _FUN?_"

_That's exactly why it's fun! You forget, Genim. I am darkness  
I find delight in the morbid, wicked, and twisted!  
So yes, I think it's _fun_ to ruin your life.  
It's what feeds me!_

Stiles' chest was heaving from his anger. Tears of desperation and frustration were spilling over onto his cheeks. He had to get back to them, he had to. He wasn't ready to die, not like this.

"I'm gonna fight!" Stiles said. "I'm not just gonna let you win! I will fight until my last breath!"

_That won't be too long._

He ran to the walls again, pounding them, ignoring the pain and blood from his hands.

He was standing in the oily substance, splashing it as he kicked. He had to fight, but he didn't know how, so he just beat on the walls, hoping it would help.

Finally, the adrenaline was leaving his boy, exhausting him. He slid down the wall, taking deep breaths to get his heart rate back of normal. He had to calm down. He had to think. He drew his knees up to himself, resting his elbows on them and put his forehead on his fists.

He sat there the only sound his breathing as his heart slowed to a normal rate.

Suddenly, he heard the clack of a heel on the hard floor. "Stiles?"

His head snapped up, and in front of him was Lydia. Beautiful, beautiful Lydia, with a look of worry and concern plain on his face as she looked at him.

"Lydia?" he asked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''

John couldn't take it anymore. He had been pacing in the waiting room, blowing off the kid's attempts to calm him down

He looked around the room, and noticed something – or rather, someone – was missing.

"Where's Lydia?" he asked.

"She went back in there," Allison said. "I tried to stop her, but she didn't listen."

John made to go back in there. He couldn't let Lydia watch that, much less alone. Before he could get to the gate, a hand pushed on his chest, stopping him. Scott was standing in front of him.

"I know you're upset," he said. "We all are. But you need to calm down. Just take a minute to breathe."

Anger flared through John. How could he expect him to calm down?

"You want me to calm down?" he asked. "My son – your best friend – is in there fighting for his life, and you want me to be calm?" he pushed away Scott's hand. "I am as calm as I'm gonna get!"

He pushed past Scott and into the exam room and stopped short at the sight in front of him.

They seemed to have stabilized Stiles, though Melissa was still pushing air into his lungs with the breathing bag, two fingers on his neck to check his pulse. Lydia was passed out on the floor, with Deaton standing in between her and Stiles.

"What the hell?" John said and started for Lydia to check on her.

"No!" Deaton said, holding out his hand. "Leave her be."

"What is this?" John gestured to the entire situation. "What the hell are you running here?"

"'I am trying to save your son," Deaton said sharply.

John looked at him in disbelief. "And what does that have to do with Lydia passed out on the floor?"

"She's fine for now," Deaton replied.

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. "For now?"

"If it goes as planned, she'll be fine," Morrell said from the corner.

"Yeah, cause we've had so much luck with that tonight," John replied angrily.

"John," Melissa interjected. "It's the only option they had."

"You have to see how crazy all of this is, Melissa!" John pleaded

"Of course I do!" she retorted. "But this is our lives now, John! Crazy! This is our kid's lives! Ever since Scott got bitten, their lives have been absolute hell, and for a long time, we were completely oblivious because they were trying to protect us! But now we know, and now we have to witness the craziness that is their lives, and just be there to get them through it!"

"But this?" John said. "My son is fighting for his life, Melissa. He could die!" His voice broke and he couldn't hold it in any longer. "Oh my God, he could die. Mel, I can't lose him. He's all I have, I can't-"

He took a deep breath as the tears streamed down his face. He had to stay strong. He wasn't strong for stiles when Claudia dies, and he had been trying to make up for it ever since. He had to be there for him.

"You're not gonna lose him," Melissa told him. "I'm not gonna let you."

He looked at her, and he could tell she was getting tired. Her hair was damp from sweat, and she had her own tears running down her cheeks.

"The only thing is," she continued, "is that this isn't going to be enough for much longer. If he doesn't wake up soon, we have to get him to the hospital. Both of them." She gestured to Lydia with a nod of her head.

"How much longer?" Deaton asked.

She shook her head, thinking as they all looked at her. "Thirty minutes, tops."

John looked between Stiles and Lydia, Lydia looking peaceful, but he knew that it was probably the complete opposite. Stiles looked like he belonged in an ambulance with the breathing bag, and his shirt cut from the CPR. He slowly walked over to Stiles and kissed his son's forehead, pushing his hair back.

"Come on, son," he said lowly in Stiles' ear. "You can do this. Go with Lydia. Please." He took a deep breath, then called Stiles by something he hadn't since Claudia died.

"Come back to me, Genim."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''

Lydia couldn't believe what she was seeing.

She was standing in a small room, and some sort of black liquid was seeping out of the walls, covering the walls and the floor. There was a figure sitting against the wall, his head in his hands, covered in said liquid.

"Stiles?" she hesitantly said.

The figure's head snapped up, and while his face was smeared with the black oil, she would know those beautiful eyes anywhere.

"Lydia?" he proclaimed in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get you," she explained, walking towards him.

He slowly stood up, confusion plain on his face. "What? How?"

"Deaton – well, Morrell actually – found a ritual, spell, whatever you wanna call it. It sent me here to help you get out of this…" she looked around, not even knowing what to call it. "Whatever this is."

"It's the darkness," he explained. "I don't know what it's doing, but it's freaking me out."

"I can see why," she said. She was getting very nervous as the liquid covered the floor. What would happen if it covered the floor? Would it keep going? Would it just fill up the room until it drowned them?

NO, she thought. Focus on Stiles.

He was looking at her suspiciously, almost like he was debating something.

"What?" she asked, starting to feel self-conscious. She straightened the belt on her dress nervously as he continued to stare.

"You're not really here," he finally said. "This is just a trick."

"No, it's not," she said. "I don't know what's gone on in here, but I'm here. I'm real."

She started to walk towards him again, but he held out his hand to stop her.

"Stop," he said harshly. So harshly that Lydia stopped short. He had never spoken that way to her. Even when he yelled at her, there was concern and protectiveness in his tone. Now there was nothing but contempt.

"Very funny!" he yelled to no one in particular, making Lydia jump. "Get my hopes up, just so you can crush them, right?" He laughed bitterly.

She took another small step toward him. "Stiles-"

_Yes, that would be clever, wouldn't it?  
I'm flattered, but sadly, I'm not doing this._

Lydia whipped around, looking for the source of the voice. There wasn't one.

"That's exactly what you would say," Stiles retorted.

_I can assure you, this isn't me.  
However strong the hold I have on you,  
I can only work with what's in your mind.  
Deaton never told you of any back up plan,  
and you weren't thinking any insane, hopeful thoughts._

Lydia could tell Stiles' mind was working a million miles a minute. His eyes were flitting left and right, not focusing on anything, his jaw slackening as realization hit him.

"You're really here?" he asked with wide eyes. She nodded with a small smile, relief flooding through her. "How?"

"I told you already," she said, "Deaton and Morrell."

She walked towards him slowly as he tried to wrap his head around the information.

"Why – why didn't Deaton say anything about it?" he asked as she stood in front of him.

"I guess he didn't want to do it if it wasn't necessary," she replied.

"But it was," he nodded. "Because I'm not strong enough."

"No," she said, grabbing the sides of his face. "You _are_ strong enough. You just have to believe it."

_Are you so sure about that?  
If he was strong enough,  
he would've beaten me by now.  
Isn't that right, Genim?_

Lydia spun around, hatred coursing through her at this stupid darkness. "You need to shut up! You _know_ he's strong enough, and that's why you're fighting so hard! You weak, pathetic, spineless little…_thing _who feeds on guilt and kind hearts to make yourself feel better! I swear if you don't let him go –"

She cut herself off as she heard laughter coming from the walls. _Laughter._

_You know, I like her. She's feisty, Genim.  
I see why you love her.  
Atleast you'll die together._

She rolled her eyes and felt Stiles' hand close around hers, making her look down at their hands.

"Stiles!" she exclaimed as she saw the blood mixed with the oil on his hands. She grabbed both of her hands, turning them over in hers. "What happened?"

"It's not important," he said. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes pleading with her before he said a word. "What is important is that you wake up. I'm fighting, but I need you to be safe, okay?"

Lydia was shaking her head before he finished. Was he crazy? Like hell she was gonna do that.

"I'm not leaving you!" she said. "I'm lucky this worked as it is, and you think I'm just gonna give up?" She shrugged off his hands, pointing a finger at his chest. "If you think for one second that I am just gonna leave after everything we've been through, you are dead wrong, Stilinski!"

Dumbfounded, he just looked at her, his honey eyes shining bright in contrast to the black oil on his face.

_Aww…how sweet.  
I've always found young love…  
Oh, what's the word…Sickening._

Lydia closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking back at Stiles. He looked just as mad as she felt.

_But is it really love that has you here, Lydia?  
Or just that you owe him?_

"Excuse me?" she asked.

_We, he's saved you so many times,  
don't you feel obligated to return the favor just once?_

"That is not what this is about, and you know it!" She yelled at the walls. "I am here because I love him, and I want him safe!" She looked at Stiles, resting a hand on his cheeks. "You know that."

He nodded, putting a hand over hers. "Yeah, I do. I love you, too."

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and she felt oil on her cheek. When he pulled away from her, she heard more laughter.

_How sweet. Too bad she'll just get hurt.  
Just like everyone else who gets close to you._

"Shut up," Stiles said, stepping away from Lydia.

_Seeing how much you care for her,  
she'll probably die, and it'll be all your fault.  
Just like your mother._

"Shut up!" he yelled, running a hand through his hair.

"Hey!" Lydia said, grabbing Stiles by the arm and making him look at her. "Don't listen to him. I am _not_ gonna die, and if I get hurt, it is _not_ your fault. It's my own stupid fault for not listening to you!"

"You've already gotten hurt because of me!" he said shaking his head. "You're a Banshee because of me."

"I'm a Banshee because of Peter," she snapped. She grabbed his face. "Now listen to me. None of this is your fault. All you've _ever_ done is try to protect people. And you _are _strong enough to break through this. We all believe in you. I believe in you."

He closed his eyes.

"Now fight," she told him. "Come back to us. We need you, Stiles. I need you, Scott needs you, your dad needs you."

_You really think that's gonna work?  
You've tried this already, Genim._

"Ignore it," she said. "Fight."

Stiles nodded, looking into her eyes. Out of her peripheral, she could see the oil starting to dissipate.

_What do you think you're doing?  
It's not gonna work._

But the voice was softer now. She smiled at Stiles, urging him to keep it up.

He took a deep breath, determination clear in his eyes. "I'm done with feeling like this. I don't want this anymore."

"Good," she said. "Because you don't deserve it. You are loving, brave, strong, and selfless. You have been there whenever someone need you without asking for anything in return. None of whatever the darkness has shown you is your fault. It doesn't matter that you happened to be there. It's not your fault. All you've done is help. If you weren't there, I'm pretty sure we'd all be dead by now.

"I know you have a huge heart, and that you take _everyone's_ problems onto your shoulders as your own. I know it feels like too much sometimes. But so many of the problems that you still keep close to you are gone, done with, over."

The floor was almost rid of the black, revealing a shiny white tile.

Stiles nodded slowly.

"And if anyone or _thing_ tells you different," she finished, "you block it out."

"How?" he asked.

"You talk to someone," she said. "To Scott, to me, to Allison, your dad, even Deaton! Someone who will tell you the truth!" She sighed, her hand sliding down to his chest. "I know that sounds _really_ hypocritical coming from me, but I can tell you, it's what I should've done. I regret not talking to anybody."

Something like realization lit up Stiles' face and his eyes narrowed. "I won't need to talk to anybody, because I won't be hearing those things anymore. I'm shutting it down right now. This darkness may always be inside of me, but it's not going to have this power over me once I wake up, and I am waking up. I'm gonna wake up, finish high school, go to college, and make my dad proud. Make my mom proud."

Lydia smiled at his confidence. "Exactly."

"And I'm gonna do it all with a True Alpha for a best friend, ready to kick-ass as we fight off whatever comes our way."

The oil was gone, and all that was left was the dark cracks.

"And I'm gonna have a beautiful, amazing, genius Banshee by my side." He smiled at her

She rolled her lips and smiled. She wiped to oil away from his lips and kissed them gently. "Damn right, you will."

Now the cracks were small and a light gray. They stood there for a moment, making sure nothing was going to come out at them. Nothing did.

"You did it!" Lydia exclaimed.

He laughed, disbelief clear on his face. "I did." Then he looked at her. "I couldn't have done it without you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. We'll talk about it _after_ we wake up."

Stiles nodded and hugged her. "On three?"

"On three," she replied.

"One," Stiles started.

"Two," Lydia continued, feeling like she was in a cheesy movie and loving every minute of it.

"Three," they said together.

She took a deep, centering breath, and felt herself slam back into reality.

* * *

**As always, I love to hear your thoughts. Tell me what you think!**


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